


Of Broken Worlds and Changing Times

by amandaithink



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, BAMF Kirk, Gen, Hurt Kirk, M/M, Slow Build, Zombie Apocalypse, i mean really slow build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 07:50:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 42,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandaithink/pseuds/amandaithink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of this tumblr post; In a post-apocalyptic world, Captain James T. Kirk is the leader of a specialized team created to fight zombies and keep them away from the shelters where the surviving population remain. ALSO incredibly slow build k/s. NOT ABANDONED. MY COMPUTER DIED IN JANUARY AND I LOST A LOT OF STUFF. I AM WORKING ON IT DON'T WORRY <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. James Tiberius Kirk

_“But I can get by in the meantime by myself” - A Crippling Blow, The Killers_

 

The stardate was 2258 - four months after mass infection and everything had certainly gone to shit. Jim Kirk had always thought that if Earth went to war during his lifetime it would be in a fight against some hostile alien race, and they would have the entire Federation on their side. So of course that’s the exact opposite of what actually happened. 

In 2256 World War IV began, and the Federation abandoned them in the most official and blatantly dismissive way possible. It was nearly 2257 when all phasers and weapons with phaser-like technology were confiscated and destroyed. If he remembers it all correctly, Kirk thinks they had used something about the weapons effects on the atmospheric environment in a prolonged wartime setting. Whatever it was, it had sounded official and logical enough for the world’s strained and nervous leaders to sign off on it. Honestly, refusing when your armies were scattered and a much more powerful group of possible opponents were breathing down your necks would be risky if not completely suicidal. 

Shortly after the phasers were mostly out of the picture Starfleet was shutdown. Not that he could tell from his humble spot on the planet’s surface, but Jim had heard that not even the space dock was in the sky anymore. He was of the mindset that the Federation didn’t even keep tabs on the planet any longer. If so he’d like to think they would have felt just _a little_ compelled to interfere. 

It was in late 2257 that enemy scientists had crafted Virus #1724, a ‘zombie virus’ intended to be used in an incredibly dangerous form of satellite controlled chemical warfare. Smart as they were, in order to prevent the launch, the Alliance sent out multiple missiles to destroy the satellite that had been set to release the deadly contaminant. Unfortunately instead of disintegrating into nothing, as intended, the structure was merely damaged and forced into an early release time.

Had the timing of the virus’ deployment been the only thing affected, they may have still stood a fighting chance. Unfortunately the focus board had been taken completely offline. Virus #1724 had nearly worldwide dispersal. 

The war no longer mattered. There was no war. Instead James Tiberius Kirk had found himself in another near hopeless fight for survival. This time there was no hope that Starfleet would eventually arrive to save the day. No, he would be stuck on this planet until he died whether that was from infection, starvation, or some other regrettable side effect from living in a post-apocalyptic world.

It was a shame he couldn’t find good booze anymore. Then again, he had too many responsibilities to just sit around drinking his problems away. Sometimes this really did feel like he was reliving Tarsus IV. It had only been natural that he found and saved as many people as he could. Not a lot of people were prepared for disasters the way he was, nor did they have the actual experience of living through them. 

These thoughts lingered in his head as he made his rounds around the camp that he had slowly nurtured into existence. Des Moines had once been the most highly populated city in Iowa, back when things like that mattered. This had meant that it was both the location with the most infected, and the most survivors. It also guaranteed that it would be the place with the most resources to exploit. This was where Jim had called home for the past 8 months. He trained those that he rescued so that they would be able to be self sufficient and assets in their own survival, he ventured to other cities throughout the state looking for more lost souls, and he protected the camp from the creatures he had no qualms about calling zombies. 

“Head in the clouds?”

Shocked from his musings, Jim looked down to see Gwyneth staring up at him with an eyebrow raised to the point of disappearing underneath her straight-cut bangs. Despite being the eldest of the two, she was nearly a foot shorter than him. With jet-black hair and eyes a blue that rivaled his own, he could understand why she was constantly rejecting the other men on the patrol roster. The fact that she was the only woman in the combat initiative of the camp was probably the other factor. The question on his mind when witnessing these moments, was how any man could ignore the gold band that wrapped around her left ring finger, glinting in the summer sun like a beacon. 

“Gwen,” he acknowledged, noticing that she was still in her combat gear. Her shift had to be nearing its end if she was this far into the camp instead of maneuvering around it’s outskirts. 

“What are you thinking about?” she went on, as if she was oblivious to his decision to leave the question unanswered.

“Nothing. Everything. This,” he made a wide gesture at the surrounding structures before shifting his attention back to the bag he was preparing. It was time for another trip around Iowa, and this was the fourth time he had double checked his pack to make sure he was prepared. 

“Ahh,” she nodded for a moment, gaze flickering from passerby to passerby before continuing the conversation that Kirk hadn’t realized he had agreed to participate in, “so you’re nervous?”

“What?!”

“You’re nervous,” she smirked, poking him in the ribs. “This is the first time you’ve gone back to Riverside since the infection.”

“No one in my family was in town when the virus hit,” Jim replied, rolling his eyes, “I’m not even sure they were even on planet, we didn’t exactly talk.”

“You don’t know that, though. They might have gone back.”

“If they were smart, if they were here when the virus hit, they would have stuck to one main location to stay safe.”

“What about you? You go all over the place,” Gwyneth countered.

“This is different,” he sighed, sliding an arm through one of the straps of his backpack and letting it hang off of his shoulder as he began to walk away. Gwen was too smart for her own good sometimes, and knew just how to challenge him - what buttons to push. That was...unideal, but she was the only good piece of his past that he had left. The rest were nightmares lurking in the shadows. He had barely covered any distance before Jim could hear her even footsteps trailing behind him.

“I want to come with you,” she stated, making no effort to hide he presence or disguise her intentions. They had been friends since grade school, Gwyneth a year older and smart enough to not be intimidated by his intelligence like the other children, and her straightforwardness was a quality he really appreciated. 

“I don’t need backup, Gwen,” Kirk replied, rolling his eyes even as he shot a smile at a group of kids playing capture the flag behind a warehouse turned living quarters. 

“Hey, I didn’t say that. It’s not all about you, y’know,” Gwyneth joked, a little smirk on her face as she caught up properly and they fell into step. The small chuckle that escaped him would have been denied if anyone brought it up. 

“Well, I think everyone would be better off if you’re here. I can’t see anything good happening from us _both_ being away.”

“Why Jim, are you saying that I’m your second in command?!” her eyes widened in false shock, “Or are you saying that Dunham is so incompetent that if left in charge the place would be overridden within seconds?” 

This didn’t get a reply, just a half-smile and a shake of his head. They were approaching the perimeter, and the patroller in question was sitting on top of a pile of crates, beaten up mid-22nd century gun sitting idly at his side. 

“Sir!” he snapped to attention, trying to give a salute while almost tumbling off of his perch. 

“At ease, Dunn,” Jim said, trying to resist the eye-roll that was just dying to happen. 

“Aye, sir!” Dunham replied, trying to regain his footing and eventually plopping back down. Jim and Gwen shared a knowing look before climbing on top of the crates themselves.

The camp was protected on all sides by all resources available; fences, reinforced metal beams and sheets, the boxes of semi-trucks (which also doubled as storage and shelter), and towers of wooden and metal crates, among other things. The crates in question were sturdy, bags of sand weighing them down. The entire perimeter was guarded in shifts by those Jim had trained specifically for the job, currently being referred to as the combat initiative. The name sounded very official, which wasn’t surprising as Gwyneth had been the one to pick it out. After graduating at 17, she had joined Starfleet and was now a trained Science Officer. Before everything went to shit, she had been serving on the USS Marvel as Chief Science Officer alongside her wife. Those days seemed long gone now. 

“Alright, I’m heading off to check out other cities for survivors and resources. Gwen I need you to make sure the rest of the patrol teams know, and I want them to report to you for orders,” he said, their eyes locking as their moods both gravitated back to the seriousness of their situation. 

“Of course,” she nodded, fingers unintentionally hovering over the gun at her hip.

“Good. Dunham, you can continue as you were. Any questions?” he asked, referring to them both. When no one volunteered anything, he said his goodbyes and walked along the crates until he reached one of the concealed exits.

“Are you leaving, sir?” asked Giles, the man currently assigned to guard this exit and the resources associated with it.

“Yup. You’ll be reporting to Gwyneth for orders.”

“Too right. I’m assuming you want the bike, then?”

“I knew there was a reason why I gave you this assignment,” Jim laughed at his own predictability. By now most of the camp was probably aware of his penchant for speeding around the state on motorcycles. It wasn’t long before Giles returned with the bike in question. 

“Thanks, man,” Jim said as he hopped onto the bike and started it as the other man opened the hidden wooden gate. With a nod of acknowledgment, Giles moved out of the way and watched as their fearless leader sped off. 

Jim got off of Interstate 80 and rode down the familiar highway, veering around the few abandoned cars that he hadn’t bothered having removed. It was always eerie, scouting all of the desolate areas that had once been so full of life and noise. Everything was silent, save for the roar of his engine. It wasn’t long before he was getting off at the exit near Iowa City, taking the 218 down to the town he grew up in. 

Growing up, there were two things that anyone who knew him were forced to be aware of; one, he is a genius, and two, he was a definite troublemaker, if not delinquent.  Gwen was one of the few good things in Riverside, not afraid of his intelligence and stubborn enough to curb his more reckless ideas. Her family had pretty much adopted him by the time they were in high school. That was after Tarsus had ripped him apart, and before Gwen had left for Starfleet. 

All was quiet as Jim drove slowly through the small town. He found himself regretting going alone, as every broken down building seared itself into his brain, shadowing the previously undamaged memory. Be that as it may, he was glad that he hadn’t brought Gwyneth along - it would hurt her more than it hurt him, of that he was sure. 

Stubbornly ignoring the roads that would lead him to the house he grew up in, Kirk parked his bike near an unassuming building before heading on foot towards the shipyard. If there was anything useful to be salvaged from Riverside, it would be there. Constantly vigilant, he held his phaser, a black market purchase, at the ready and set to stun. There was no telling whether or not some sole survivors were holed up somewhere, and he’d rather have to shoot a zombie twice than kill the poor soul who managed to spook him. 

It was disconcerting, the lack of any and all noise. Despite the lack of humans, the wildlife of the area should be carrying on undisturbed. Jim reluctantly had to admit to himself that the chances of zombies being in the area was incredibly high. 

_Speak of the devil_ , he thought, watching as a sole creature slugged over the collapsed fence. It’s focus did not deviate from what was straight ahead of it, and it paid Jim no mind. This alone was enough to raise alarms, since it had become his assumption that the zombies possessed a much more developed sense of smell than their uninfected counterparts. Jim crouched down slowly, not wanting to gain any attention but looking realistically at his options. The once well maintained area was overgrown, creating giant grass areas that could hide a multitude of undead. His eyes were searching for any unnatural movement. 

Slowly moving forward, it didn’t take long before Kirk found the situation laid out before him in cringing detail. A group of 11 zombies was closing in on two humans, one an older man and the other a young woman, beautiful yet fierce. The corpses of 7 zombies were scattered about the area, along with two pistols lying near empty magazines. The metal of a large knife flashed in the sunlight from it’s position, stuck in one of the advancing creature’s head. The woman was holding onto a much smaller knife, trying to keep point as the man was failing to reload his 21st century shotgun with a very wounded arm. 

“Shit,” Jim cursed in a breath, before quickening his pace and double checking that his machete was securely attached to his hip before switching his phaser to kill. 

As much as their attention had been glued to the first two humans, the zombies did not fail to notice Kirk’s now unhidden approach. The ones farthest from the injured duo turned, never stopping their steady moan once Jim came into view. With unquestionable skill, he aimed and shot down three of the infected creatures before he was within their range. Darting to the side, he shot the knife sporting one right between the eyes before he heard the distinct sound of the shotgun being cocked. The head of the nearest zombie was blown to pieces as Jim ducked down and pulled the weapon out of his last kill’s skull. 

The thing that was just too easy about fighting these walking corpses was that they were about as subtle as a bulldozer. There was no surprising Jim when they came up behind him, feet crunching through the dying grasses, low moans passing through their disfigured mouths. With a quick kick backwards, he sent one toppling to the ground before turning and firing on the next one. Before standing, he jammed his newly acquired blade into the other zombie’s forehead with 3 sharp thrusts. The sound of the shotgun was deafening as he scrambled to get closer to the other two, who were being closed in on by the remaining three. 

“Watch out!” he shouted, before letting out a barrage of phaser fire. Though he wasn’t one to waste charges, the sense of urgency brought on when defending others was enough to put that safely in the back of his mind. By the time he reached the unexpected survivors, he was panting, but had safely neutralized the threat. 

“What was that?!” the woman asked, sounding oddly angry for someone who just had their life saved. 

“What was what?” Kirk asked in reply, not appreciating the ungrateful attitude. He handed her the knife, not surprised when she swiped it out of his hand as if he was about to stab her with it if she didn’t get to it quick enough.

“You just came out of nowhere, slaughtering zombies left and right as if you do it in your sleep!” she exclaimed, disbelief colouring her voice. 

“I’m more interested in where you came from,” he said, leaving her question unanswered.

“We just came from Indianapolis, but San Francisco is home base,” the older man answered, not questioning Jim further despite the obvious curiosity in his unwavering gaze. 

“Well you two are pretty far from home. How’d you end up at the shipyard?”

“Our team dropped us near here before heading up to Iowa City to search for survivors. We were unable to contact them when we were overrun.”

“Your _team_? Well, they’ll have a disappointing evening - there’s nothing in Iowa City, no one alive or otherwise. The most they’ll find is a funeral pyre. The place was cleared months ago.”

“You do seem to be the expert,” the woman muttered, rolling her eyes. 

“I can’t say I disagree with her there. The name’s Christopher Pike,” the man introduced himself, holding out his hand in offering. 

“You can call me Jim or JT, that’s all I’m saying,” came his defensive response before shaking Chris’ hand. 

“I hardly think it matters, son. World’s in ruins, I don’t think you need to worry about people searching your name.” For that, all Pike got from Jim was a derisive snort and some grumbling. 

“How about you,” he said instead, turning to the woman, “what’s your name?”

“...Uhura,” she replied, still eyeing him with suspicion. 

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he smirked, shaking her hand. Everyone at the camp was automatically off-limits, charges under his care, so it had been awhile since he could shamelessly flirt with someone. “No last name?”

“Uhura is my last name,” she smiled, expertly spinning her knife in her hand before placing it in it’s sheath at her hip. 

“I love that you’re playing hard to get. I rise well to challenges.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Alright children, if you’re ready I think we need to see about contacting the team,” Pike said, ending their banter. 

“Right,” Jim said, the playful light leaving his eye, “this town isn’t outfitted for any communications, this was going to be my first run-through. The only primitive communications systems are at camp, which I can take you to.”

“We’d appreciate it, son.”

“There is...one _small_ problem, though.”

“What now?” Uhura sighed. 

“I came here on my motorcycle. So we’ll have to find and fill a truck.”

* * *

 

Two hours later found Jim Kirk driving an old blue truck down highway 22, his eyes peeled for the 92 exit. Pike was sitting next to him in the passengers seat, and Uhura was sprawled out in the small backseat watching farms go by out the window. 

“So, what were you looking for at the shipyard?” she asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence that had overtaken them.

“Anything useful, same as you I’m figuring,” he answered honestly, not much in the mood for flirting the closer they got to camp. 

“How big is your sanctuary?” Pike wanted to know.

“Sanctuary?” Jim repeated, thrown off.

“That’s what we call ‘em in GUARD,” Uhura inadequately explained, only raising more questions.

“GUARD...” Jim muttered, not wanting to admit to having his curiosity piqued. 

“Stands for ‘Guardians United to Aid, Respond, and Defend’,” Pike explained, “It’s an organization created to help the world recover from Virus #1724. We travel to different locations, helping survivors build Sanctuaries, or camps, and clearing the areas of the infected. We have ongoing research on finding a cure, but until then the best we can do is eliminate the threats.”

“Gotcha,” he nodded, brow furrowing as he tried to imagine it. As if sensing the deep thought that he was in, his two new companions kept silent for the rest of the drive. It wasn’t until they reached the outskirts of Des Moines that they began to talk again. 

“You never said how big your camp was,” Uhura commented.

“It’s pretty big. Every survivor I find, I bring ‘em back here. It makes more sense to expand then to separate everyone when defense and communication are so limited. I don’t know how big your... _sanctuaries_ are, but yeah...” he trailed off once the camp came into view. At their arrival he was able to watch Dunham wake up and almost fall off of the wall, yet again, before opening the gate.

“Sorry sir,” he said meekly, eyes fixed onto his feet as Kirk and the GUARD officers exited the car. 

“Didn’t your shift end two hours ago? Where’s Gwyneth?”

“I fell asleep and no one woke me at shift change, sir. I’m pretty sure Gwyneth is patrolling the east wall...then again that was three hours ago...” 

“Where is your relief?”

“Err...”

“Here, sir,” came a voice from behind him. Everyone turned to see a small blonde girl jump off of the wall, her short spiky hair falling in her face. 

“Payton, if you would,” Jim instructed lightly, resting his chin in his hand to hide the laughter that was threatening to break through his professional facade. 

“Dunham, I relieve you,” she said, smirking at her fellow patroller’s clumsy salute before he walked away. Once Dunham was safely out of sight and earshot, Jim burst into a small fit of laughter.

“That kid is going to get himself killed, I swear, if he wasn’t in such a safe area...I hope he never gets it in his head to try to be a hero oh my god.”

“I know,” Payton giggled before turning to Pike and Uhura, “It’s not for lack of training or poor instruction, either. Jim’s been very patient with him, I just don’t think this is his calling,” she explained to the strangers. 

“You really should have woke him up, though, but yeah this is Payton. She’s one of the patrollers. We have four at all times. Who else is on duty right now?”

“Gwyneth is pulling a...triple I think. She’s got Giles pulling a double, I know that. I think she wanted to make sure the best patrollers were on duty with you gone. Tim’s on the east wall. Giles is north and Gwen is west. You’re back a lot earlier than we thought you’d be. Anxious to show your new friends around?”

“Something like that,” Jim said, nervously scratching the back of his neck, “Payton this is Chris Pike and Miss. Uhura. They’re members of an organization called GUARD and are just passing through. They need to use our communications systems to contact the rest of the team they came to Iowa with. Do you have your relay?”

“Of course, sir,” she replied, handing Kirk the walkie-talkie-like device used by patrollers to communicate with others on duty at the walls, nearby scouting missions, and whoever is stationed at the central communication station. Jim thanked her and walked a short distance away to make whatever calls he needed, and Payton took the moment to pay more attention to the supposed officials that arrived with her fearless leader. 

“You’re not taking him with you, are you?” she asked Chris point blank. Payton was never one to beat around the bush about something. Everyone always knew where they stood with her. 

“What?!” Uhura exclaimed, not expecting that.

“We don’t intend to, though he would be an excellent addition to GUARD,” Pike said, ignoring the previous outburst. 

“You’re definitely considering it, I can tell. We need him, though. I’m sure you’ll be fine with the officers you have.”

“Is he really responsible for all of this?” Uhura asked, definitely taken aback by the reverence shown toward the cocky pretty boy she had met outside the shipyard in Riverside by those in his care. 

“Of course,” Payton replied, eyes wide, just as the man in question returned.

“Randell is relieving Gwyneth and we’ll meet her at the comms. Payton, as you were,” he said, smiling as the girl gave him a sharp nod before climbing back up the wall to continue diligently at her assigned task. 

“She thinks very highly of you,” Pike commented as they walked further into the camp. 

“Yeah...that happens...” Jim mumbled, once again scratching the back of his neck. They were greeted by everyone they passed, Jim never failing to introduce them and inquire upon the well-being of the survivors they came across. He knew everyone’s name. Pike felt a little guilty after what Payton had requested earlier, but each moment he spent with Jim he wanted to recruit him more and more. Uhura couldn’t get the shocked expression to completely leave her face. Apparently first impressions weren’t all they were made out to be. It wasn’t long, though, before they arrived at a rusted collapsed fence that once guarded the public from the communication hub.

“Gwen!” he didn’t hesitate to shout while they carefully walked over the broken pieces of metal. Within moments a black haired woman emerged from the building, headset still on her head.

“You’re home early, wh-” she cut herself off upon seeing Uhura and Pike, “I see...so what do you guys need?” Her transition from informal to professional was seamless, and Jim couldn’t suppress his smirk. 

“We could use your help contacting our team in Iowa City, m’am,” Pike said, not one to forget manners as he walked up to shake Gwyneth’s hand, “Chris Pike.”

“Gwyneth...you can call me Gwen, and I’ll see what I can do. Any chance you have the comm frequencies?”

“I’m usually the one who manages the communication panels in our van,” Uhura said, finally walking forward to shake hands and introduce herself, “Nyota Uhura.”

“Oh, so _she_ gets your first name, ouch,” Jim chuckled, playfully holding a hand over his heart in feigned pain. 

“James Tiberius Kirk, stop flirting with this innocent woman,” Gwen scolded in a similarly joking manner, not expecting Jim’s reaction - his eyes widened and the smile dropped from his face like it had never been there at all. At this point everyone had turned to look at him. 

“I trust you’ll be able to effectively handle the comms,” he said flatly, before turning and making a quick exit of the designated area. He was not unexperienced enough not to realize when he was being followed, but Jim chose to ignore it until he had reached and climbed the west wall. “What do you want?”

“I just wanna talk, Jim,” Pike said, taking a seat next to him and following his gaze into the setting sun. 

“So talk.” The scowl on Jim’s face was apparent even without Pike turning to look.

“You didn’t want us to know you were a Kirk,” he started, stating the obvious. 

“You just seem like the Starfleet type, and I don’t think I’m wrong. I mean, San Francisco?” Jim replied, turning to give him an accusatory glare.

“You’re right, I wasn’t trying to hide it. With a worldwide pandemic on our hands and Starfleet no longer running, I chose to come up with a way to help. So I created GUARD. We’ve now spread a good amount through the western states.”

“That’s great, really, but I don’t want anything to do with it,” he asserted, once again focusing his attentions on the sky. 

“You know I knew your parents back in the day. Starfleet, GUARD...doesn’t matter. You’ve accomplished a lot here son, and I know your father would be proud of you. I’m sure your mother is, too...though I could take an educated guess and assume she’s not around here.” 

“See, it’s shit like this!” Jim yelled, now much more obvious in his anger, “Just because you knew him you think you know me, and what he’d think of me! I’ve never even met the guy yet I’ve spent my whole life being compared to him! As for my mom, I haven’t seen her in almost 3 years. I have no idea where she was when the virus was released, or when the war started. If she’s lucky she’s safely off planet.” When he finished speaking he was standing on top of the wall, panting for breath. 

“I didn’t mean anything to-”

“No, you did. Everyone does. Hope Uhura finds your friends,” he interrupted before jumping off of the wall, landing hard on his feet. It was no short drop, that was for sure. Jim could hear Pike calling after him, but studiously ignored the other man as he walked ahead with no location in mind. All he knew was that he needed some time alone.

* * *

 

Jim did not return that night, spending the whole of it sitting atop a small hill reflecting on the decisions he had made. Sunrise found him still there, absentmindedly fiddling with his knife as he watched the sky’s colours slowly change once again. It was kind of nice, he usually was to busy for things like sunrises and sunsets. His reverie didn’t last long, though, as he heard rustling in the grass behind him. In only seconds he was on his feet, machete at the ready, only to find Uhura standing with her palms up in surrender. Without a word Jim sheathed his weapon and sat back down, not giving her a second glance. She was honestly the last person he thought would come to get him, given her obvious distaste at their first meeting. 

“Jim,” she said flatly, plopping down next to him. 

“Uhura,” he replied with just as much enthusiasm. After that they sat in silence for awhile, seemingly ignoring the other’s existence, before Nyota finally decided to speak up.

“Gwen had some really great things to say about you. She feels really bad, also.”

“I’m not mad at her,” he grumbled, clenching his fists. 

“I didn’t think you were. Pike feels bad, too you know. He was trying to be nice,” she said, a little more venom in her words.

“Yeah, well, good intentions don’t always work out the way you hoped now do they,” Jim replied, standing up and getting ready to storm off. Uhura also leapt up, and Kirk was starting to get the impression that this woman was terrifying in her own right. 

“Stop acting like an infant, Jim! You can’t just expect to take on the world all on your own, people aren’t going to always bend to the niceties that you want them to. So your dad died on the Kelvin! Do you think that makes you special?!”

“No I don’t think it makes me special!” he shouted, spinning around unexpectedly to face her, “I want everyone to forget it! I’m my own person and I fucking hate that everything I am is defined by others in comparison to him! I’m not going to walk in his footsteps, I can’t! I don’t know what his fucking footsteps were!”

“Then man up you baby, if you want to carve your own path do it. Qu’Hom,” she spat. _Harmless thing trying to look impressive._ If Klingon insults was how she wanted this to go, Jim felt it would simply be _rude_ not to oblige her. 

“Hab SoSlI’ Quch,” he replied, glaring. _Your mother has a smooth forehead._ Didn’t mean much in Standard, but he was aware of how offensive this was in Klingon and figured she would get the picture. Her eyes did widen, but Jim couldn’t be sure if it was because she was offended or simply surprised that he knew Klingon.

“blHnuch,” was her reply. _Coward._

“Sli-Vak.” _Whore._ He was promptly slapped for that one, and he wouldn’t deny deserving it. 

“Sorry, sorry, too far,” Kirk backed away, mimicking her earlier show of surrender. 

“You watch who you’re talking to, farm boy,” Nyota replied, crossing her arms and fixing him with a glare that would have most men running for the hills. Good thing he didn’t scare _that_ easily. 

“Oh believe me, I won’t be forgetting anytime soon,” he smirked, naturally falling back on flirting and bravado as a way of compensating for any insecurities. “Speaking of talking, is the calvary on it’s way?”

At this Uhura frowned and chose to look at the landscape instead of the cocky man in front of her. “We couldn’t get ahold of them. We’re worried. I know you don’t think much about teams, but-”

“Hey! Cut it with the holier than thou attitude, _Nyota._ I would and have fought and risked my life for each and every one of the people in my camp. My patrol team is important to me, Gwyneth is like family. Don’t start trying to act like you know me, okay?!” he interrupted, that pissed off feeling coming back to him. 

“Then help us get to them. I can only hope that they’re still in Iowa City, and that nothing horrible has happened,” she demanded, though he had a suspicion that Uhura was close to begging, she looked so upset. 

“I don’t know why you’re so worried. I told you there’s nothing there but bodies,” Jim said dismissively as he began walking back toward the camp. He could only imagine the look on Uhura’s face right now. “But sure,” he added, “I’ll drive you guys to Iowa City.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like it! Gonna be first to admit it takes some time to get exciting but you know, soon soon. Let me know what you think!!


	2. Sch'n T'gai Spock

_“Come together, right now, over me,” - Come Together, The Beatles_

 

To worry was illogical, as Spock had already calculated the likelihood of Pike and Uhura becoming separated from them for an extended period of time. It was quite likely and no cause for immediate alarm, as the two were more than competent enough to survive on their own in conditions less favourable than these. As it was, when Dr. McCoy accused him of harbouring the emotion he simply changed the subject to a more pertinent topic. The doctor’s goading had become commonplace and thus very easy to ignore. 

“Have you finished scanning the crude burial sights?” he inquired, simultaneously walking over to the van where Mr. Scott was doing something suspicious with a few panels. 

“Yeah, all infected, all charred to bits. Me an’ Sulu can’t figure out what the hell happened here. Makes no sense for a cleared area to be uninhabited,” came the reply, the results unsurprising from what Spock had seen earlier. 

“It would appear to be quite illogical,” he agreed, mind wandering over infected skin and the moans that, due to his sensitive Vulcan hearing, would be etched into his being for decades to come. After refusing entrance to the Vulcan Science Academy, S’chn T’gai Spock had went to Earth to pursue a career in Starfleet. Tension was high between he and his father as a result, and they had stopped all communication. When war broke out on Earth, Spock believed that it was his duty as a Starfleet officer to stay and assist. By the time Starfleet shut down it was too late to escape the planet, leaving him stranded in San Francisco at the time of Virus #1724’s dispersal.

“Mr. Scott, may I ask what it is you are attempting to alter in those communications panels?”

“Oh, just a wee bit of adjustments. Figured out a way to increase the distance a tad, and getting closer to figuring out a more stable way for us to comm each other on the field,” the Scotsman replied, grinning up unashamedly.

“Do you not think it would be best to wait until Miss. Uhura is present before making such alterations?” he questioned with a raise of his eyebrow. Past experience had indicated how Uhura felt about others ‘messing with her stuff’ and the emotions were not positive.

“Ahh the lass’ll have nothin’ to complain about. Dare say she’ll thank me when they get back,” Mr. Scott dismissed with a wave of his hand before refocusing his attentions back to the panels. This was acceptable, as just then Chekov came running up. The young man had a tendency toward being overeager, but as Pavel Chekov was a prodigy at only 17, Spock found he could not fault him too much - this was supposedly to be expected at this stage in human development. 

“Commander! I have completed my calculations, and am able to estimate zee time of death at all sites to fiwe and a haff months ago. Also, I was able to identify the use of phaser technology. Apart from zat I vas unable to find any other toxins or radiation in zee area,” he reported.

“Interesting...” Spock replied, taking the offered tricorder. Everything was just as the ensign had said. However, he was unable to give the data more than a cursory glance as the sudden roar of an engine broke the near-suffocating silence that permeated the area.

“What in gods name is happening now?!” he heard Dr. McCoy complain from somewhere behind him. Spock’s attention did not waver from the road in front of him as he waited for a vehicle to inevitably appear. Sure enough, within moments a blue truck rolled up and pulled to a stop parallel to where their van was stationed. Once the engine cut off, all fell into silence again as the team waited for it’s occupants to emerge. Their curiosity was sates as three doors opened to reveal Captain Pike, Uhura, and an unknown man - he had been driving.

“Told you we’d find ‘em,” the nameless young man said to the Captain with a self-assured smirk as they walked up to the group. 

“I still maintain that it would have been safer to-”

“But there’s nothing here!” the man exclaimed, interrupting Pike and makinng wild gestures with his hands. 

“Nothin’ but bones, if that’s what ya mean,” McCoy scowled, eyeing the stranger suspiciously. 

“Exactly! Just bones,” he agreed, ignoring the doctor’s apparent disapproval and clapping him on the shoulder, presumably for his imaginary assistance in the point he was making. 

“Whatever, Jim. I’ll pick my battles. This is Commander Spock,” the Captain introduced, the trio stopping in front of him.

“JT, or Jim,” the blond, blue-eyed man said, not offering his hand. Perhaps _JT_ knew something of Vulcan biology, surprisingly enough. 

“How is it that you have such knowledge of this cities circumstances?” Spock inquired, tilting his head slightly as he assessed the individual that stood before him.

“Easy - I was here when it happened.”

That was as far as they managed to converse before Uhura interrupted them with a shriek once she laid eyes on Mr. Scott. “What do you think you’re doing with my panels!”

“Just fixin’ ‘em up, nothin’ ta worry about,” Montgomery explained, smarly sitting down the objects in question before standing to meet her.

“Never update those consoles without me again! I was worried, thinking the worst when I couldn’t comm you guys from Jim’s camp!” Their argument continued, but Spock chose to tune the rest out. 

“Your camp?” he questioned instead, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, I established a camp for Iowa’s survivors in Des Moines,” Jim replied, scratching his neck as a useless nervous tick.

“I’ll let you two get to know each other,” Pike piped in before presumably going to stop the other two’s bickering. 

“I find it very improbably that a civilian such as yourself could organize a sanctuary without the assistance of a-”

“I’m sorry, ‘civilian’?!” Jim interrupted, looking affronted. 

“Yes, I believe that the statement was quite clear.”

“How am I a ‘civilian’?” he elaborated, rolling his eyes.

“As I am a trained Starfleet official and you are neither a member of Starfleet or any military organization, your official status is that of a civilian,” Spock explained, aware of the glazed over look that had taken over the other man’s eyes.

“Starfleet...gotcha,” Jim nodded, before turning around. Spock watched him take a few steps before spinning back, a fierce determination replacing his previous vacant expression. “You and Pike created GUARD, yeah? Through remaining Starfleet resources?”

“That is correct.”

“Yeah...yeah, I thought so. Well, you can tell Chris that he can keep his offer, I’m fine right where I am.”

Spock did not have a chance to respond, Jim quickly walking away. The Vulcan felt that he would never understand the illogical nature of humans. His previous curiosity about how ‘JT’ had set up this camp was left unsated. Never had he encountered such a stubborn yet resourceful individual. 

* * *

 

Jim stormed off toward the van, planning to say goodbye to Pike and Uhura before heading back to Des Moines, but it was the man who had provoked Uhura’s rage who had noticed him first. Before he could even react, Jim found himself being dragged along the the Scotsman. 

“Well I’ll give JT ‘ere the ol’ tour then, eh?” he said before sliding shut the door in Pike and Uhura’s faces. Lights blinked on inside revealing a myriad of technology and weaponry. 

“What?” was all Jim could articulate.

“Name’s Montgomery Scott. Friends call me Scotty. Jus’ go along wit it, lad, ya dunnae know how bloody frightenin’ she is when she’s mad.”

“I think I have an idea, actually,” Jim nodded in agreement before turning to take a better look at the equipment that surrounded them. It was obvious where Scotty had taken the communication panels from.

“She’s real basic. Standard low-level tracking an’ GPS. Information storage, basic calculatin’ programs...nothin’ fancy,” Scotty explained, pointing to each panel as he spoke. 

“Still, real effective for long distance travel. How do you ensure long lasting fuel and power capabilities?” he asked, stepping in for a closer look. 

“Well,” Scotty began, a large grin on his face, “I rigged the fuel tanks to transition for ethenol, diesel, petrol, an’ other natural oil fuels. Only need ta use that, though, if we can’t run it electrically, which only happens if the solar panels don’ have enough juice to power her _and_ all ‘er systems.” 

“That’s genius,” Jim praised, inspecting the screen Scotty had opened that explained the system in more detail with included schematics. 

“Ya don’ know the half of it.”

“So what were you doing with the comms?” he asked, turning around and leaning against the console. Scotty proceeded to explain to Jim, in much greater detail than he did Spock, exactly what improvements he wished to make - both short term and long term. Moments later found the two of them enthusiastically working on the comm panels, firing ideas back and forth. 

“So, you Starfleet too?” Jim asked, simply curious at this point. He had already decided that he liked Montgomery Scott. The man was crazy and a genius; exactly his kind of person.

“Aye, technically. Was banished to Delta Vega a few years back, though. Figure tha’s why the _Commander_ don’ use me rank when he addresses me.” 

“Banished? Wait - how did you get back here?”

“Well if I ‘ad known what a right mess we’d got in, I’d ‘ave beamed someplace a wee bit more inhabitable. As it were, I finally figured out my transwarp beaming equation. Unfortunately the technology here’d been removed by the Federation tha’ would get me an’ everyone else off this rock.”

“Shit! Damn it’s like they’ve quarantined us! You can’t build what you’d need?”

“Theoretically, if I weren’t helpin’ these fools travel ‘cross this country,” Scotty shrugged. Jim scowled but knew when to leave well enough alone. The people on this team obviously really believed in GUARD and it’s mission if they were willing to squander such potential. “If I did try to make an improved transporter, I’d want the wonda kid to come with me. You wouldn’ be bad ta drag along either.” 

“Wonder kid?” he repeated, confused.

“Chekov. Lad’s only 17, bloody genius! Fast friend with ‘im when I joined up with this lot. Nyota’s a pretty fine lass ‘erself, when I’ve not invoked her wrath.”

“You’ve definitely got a thing for her.” 

“Aye! I won’t have ya spreadin’ no rumours,” Scotty fired back, swatting Jim good naturedly. 

“Woah, secrets safe with me,” he laughed, “How’s everyone else?”

“Sulu’s fine. The doctor’s grumpy. See ya already met the Commander.”

Jim nodded. “The doctor?” he questioned, confused for a moment as he tried to put names to those of the team that he had seen. “Oh! You mean Bones!”

“Now I don’ know what yer goin’ on about.”

Just then the door slid open, revealing a skeptical looking Uhura. “Do I want to know what you two’ve gotten up to together?”

“Well-” Jim started, but was immediately cut off.

“No, no I’ll sleep better at night if I don’t. Just came over to tell you guys it’s almost time for lunch.”

* * *

 

Spock was less than thrilled when they all sat down for lunch. His time since Jim and Montgomery holed up inside the van had been spent with Pike, who was dead set on convincing him that they needed Jim in GUARD. It was all very illogical, not to mention redundant, considering the fact that Jim had already proven to be against the idea.

“So, you’re Jim then?” Sulu was saying as they sat in a circle eating the sandwiches that Mr. Scott had prepared earlier.

“Yeah. I take it you’re Sulu, then?”

“Hikaru Sulu,” he nodded, offering Jim his hand, “I’d hate to guess what Scotty’s been saying.” Spock raised an eyebrow as he listened before glancing at Nyota, who just shrugged.

“No, nothing like that,” Jim assured before Montgomery could protest the accusation, “just process of elimination.”

“Da?” Chekov questioned, having not yet properly introduced himself.

“Well,” he began to explain, “I’ve only not met three of you, but the youngest is obviously Chekov the wonderkid, and Bones is so grumpy that you had to be Sulu.”

“Bones?” Dr. McCoy exclaimed, a mixture of confusion and annoyance colouring his speech.

“It’s your nickname,” Jim smirked.

“Listen here, kid, I don’t need a nickname. Especially one as nonsensical as ‘Bones’.” 

Spock privately agreed with the illogic of Jim’s choice in diminutive. Meanwhile Jim had just shrugged his shoulders and finally began to eat his sandwich. With the break in conversation, Chekov made an attempt at a formal introduction but tapered off, inquiring, “Vat is vrong, Jim, sir?”

With a lifestyle that required such constant alert, every member of GUARD immediately snapped to attention. Unable to speak, a very red faced Jim had dropped his food and was tugging at his shirt as if the action would improve the decreasing airflow in his lungs. 

“Dammit Jim, are you having an allergic reaction?!” Spock had no choice but to assume the doctor’s question had been rhetorical, given the way he jabbed a hypospray into Jim’s neck without waiting for any signal on the part of his patient. 

“Were you aware of his possession of severe allergies?” Spock asked, turning toward Pike and Uhura.

“No, I mean...we only met him yesterday,” Nyota hissed.

With a gasp Jim jerked forward, his face immediately beginning to revert to it’s normal colour. “Fuck! Bones that hurt! Get offa me!”

“Oh, so ya’d rather I let ya die next time?! If you have food allergies, dontcha think you should scan it firs, or at least _ask_?”

“Hey, you can just mind your own-”

“An’ stop calling me Bones!”

“You, and you,” Nyota stood up, pointing at each man in turn, “stop acting like children!”

A silence fell over the group, as Uhura usually managed to have the last word. Jim and the doctor spent a short while glaring at each other before Jim broke into a wide grin. Leonard rolled his eyes and turned toward Sulu and, if Spock was not mistaken, suppressing a grin of his own. Humans, it seemed, would always be a mystery to him. 

“So,” Jim began, after everyone had finally gotten back to their meals, turning to Sulu, “how did you end up out here with these guys? You in Starfleet, too?”

“Yup, me and Pavel were bother in the ‘Fleet together. Moved up to Salem once things fell apart.”

“Both of you?”

“Da, we had been roommates at zee Academy,” Pavel answered enthusiastically. 

“What was it like there? I mean, after everything went down.”

“The cities were overrun,” Sulu started, telling Jim the story they had all heard many times before, “so we managed to create a safety zone in the forest. I was on the science and command tracks at the Academy and have a background in botany, so I found a lot of natural foods for us to eat.”

“Yeah, it’s really important to know that kind of stuff,” Jim agreed, an unreadable expression on his face even though his attention did not seem to have deviated from the topic at hand. 

“We lived in zee trees, and-”

“You need to understand, Jim, it was like a bunch of tree forts. The kind of ‘Lost Boy’ thing you dream about when you’re a little kid,” Pike explained, laughing lightly at the memory. Spock could recall perfectly their stunned reaction upon awaking in a tree house after a particularly brutal campaign. A grin lit up Jim’s face, but he did not interrupt Chekov further.

“Da, and I inwented a tree glider to improve transportation between zee forts. Zee zombies, dey cannot climb, so it vas safest to awoid ground.”

“That sounds incredible. How’d ya end up in GUARD then?” Jim asked, leaning back against the cooler where Mr. Scott was putting together something more suitable to the man’s dietary needs.

“Vell, zee Keptain and zee Commander came to set up Sanctuary in Salem,” Chekov explained, “Vas only natural dat Sulu and I return to help.”

“It’s not that we wanted to leave the survivors we’d protected in Oregon,” Sulu defended, knowing how they must sound to Jim, “we just felt that we could do them more good in an organization like this. Get closer to having the world back.”

Jim nodded in understanding and the conversation flowed naturally from that point on, covering a wide arrangement of interesting, if less personal, topics. Spock posed relevant information when necessary, but for the most part found himself reflecting on his and Pike’s previous interaction as well as Jim’s defensive and antagonistic reaction the one time that they spoke. Surely and individual so volatile could not make a good officer? Yet the Captain insisted that he convince Jim to join GUARD.

It was with great trepidation, though he would never admit to it, that Spock approached Jim once lunch had finished and everyone once again went their separate ways. 

“Spock,” he greeted, seeming just as skeptical about speaking to Spock as the Vulcan was toward him. 

“Jim. I came to inquire as to your plans for the rest of the day.” If anything, this question seemed to make the other man even more uncomfortable. 

“Well, there’s not a lot of sense in staying here. It’s just a burial ground right now, ya know? So...probably going to say bye to everyone and head back to camp.”

Spock nodded at the statement, accepting the logic of it. There also wasn’t much point in their team’s presence here, especially as any questions they had concerning the city’s current status could be best answered in Des Moines. “Would it be acceptable for us to accompany you to your camp?” he asked. 

“It’s a fully functional establishment, Spock. It doesn’t have to be a...a sanctuary. We don’t need you-”

“It seems I have not made my intentions clear. We do not wish to alter your settlement, simply to stay the night before heading back to San Francisco. I also would not be averse to hearing more about the camp’s establishment and the current status of Iowa City.” 

* * *

 

Jim sighed, decidedly put out. Pike and Uhura’s presence had caused him enough stress - he couldn’t imagine the addition of five more GUARD members. He had a trying enough time keeping his own patrol units in line without having to worry about the habits and practices of other similar groups. Still, it wasn’t in his nature to refuse people a safe place to stay, so he shoved the ominous feeling into the back of his mind as he lead the GUARD crew to camp. Giles was back in position when they arrived, allowing the van entrance with a wave from Jim. 

“Sir?” he asked, confused, once everyone had parked and exited the vehicles.

“Giles, these guys are here to stay the night before heading back to their camp in San Francisco,” Jim explained. So what if he was glossing over a lot of stuff? All he could think about was his bed and how he wanted to marry it. The fact that he couldn’t remember the last time he slept should have set off a few alarms, but he quickly moved past the thought before anyone would have a chance to see it on his face. Gwyneth was... _useful_ for that kind of thing.

Speak of the devil. “Jim! What’s going on?” Gwyneth walked up, armed to the teeth. He didn’t recall approving her to go on a scouting mission and voiced that. 

“Don’t be stupid,” she replied, hands on her hips, “as second in command, in your absence - and you _have_ been absent - it’s my duty to ensure the safety of the camp. That means active scouting.”

“Yeah! You’re second in command, you have to take care of things _here_! Send someone else out for scouting. It’s not-” Jim was interrupted by a swift slap to the face.

“If the next word out of your mouth is ‘safe’, I’m going to do a lot worse a lot lower,” Gwen snapped. Her glare was terrifying. Between her and Uhura, Jim was about ready to surrender to a matriarchal society. It seemed imminent.

“Well what do you expect me to say! Do you know how- ugh!” he cut himself off before he could really get into it with her. They had an audience, and since it wasn’t just Giles watching another act in the drama that was _James and Gwyneth: Dysfunctional Camp Family_ they had to act with some semblance of professionalism. Plus, with everything currently happening dragging up his unresolved issues from Tarsus IV these things usually ended with him having a panic attack and Gwyneth baking something as a peace offering. “This isn’t over,” he added before walking away from the wall and into the camp proper. 

“Who vas she?” he heard Chekov ask.

“I don’t know,” Bones replied, “but I like ‘er.” 

Guests weren’t really something they encountered often, so there wasn’t any housing designed to be temporary and Jim had to recruit the help of what he had dubbed the ‘residence regiment’, though they just called themselves ‘housing’. It lacked imagination, so he refused to admit that their title was better. 

“They should have something ready for you by tonight,” he explained, leaning against the wall of a building and hoping that no one was aware that it was pretty much the only thing keeping him upright.

“That’ll be fine, son,” Pike said, clapping his shoulder in a show of gratitude. 

“Is there anything we can do to help out until then?” Sulu asked. It was apparent that none of these people were used to being idle for an extended amount of time. Though the same could be said for Jim, he was hesitant to assign them duties. He knew better, of course, but it still felt like relinquishing control of the camp and letting it become another one of GUARD’s Sanctuaries. 

“Everything’s pretty much set for organization and settlement, guys. We just run our patrols, scout, and clear areas. I mean, if you’re really bored you can see about relieving or assisting in patrol but...yeah...” he trailed off, wincing internally as he scratched the back of his neck.

“Well, I’m going to help Scotty finish my panels,” Uhura said, getting Scotty moving with just a glance in his direction. Everyone figured out something to occupy their time until dinner, and Jim soon found himself alone with Spock. Assuming that the Commander would go his own way as well, he pushed himself off of the wall and started toward his quarters. When Spock fell in line with him, Jim was more than a little taken aback and decided to wait for the other man to speak. 

“I believe I...owe you an apology,” Spock said, staring straight ahead as he spoke.

“Yeah?” he responded, incredulous. 

“Yes, it appears I quite underestimated your abilities. You would be an excellent addition to GUARD.”

At this Jim stopped abruptly and whipped around. “Excuse me?! I don’t care what you think, okay? It doesn’t matter whether or not I’d be good in GUARD or Starfleet or _anything,_ because I’m not interested! You guys can’t show up out of nowhere and assume you can just... _draft_ anyone you want, that they’ll just want to uproot their lives like that!” 

“It is not an expectation,” Spock explained in that inflectionless voice of his, “I was simply making an observation about your skills. It is true that you are not required to join us, but I feel that I must ask; with your camp set up and your units trained, what purpose are you serving? Is it fear that is stopping you from moving forward?”

“What are you even-” Jim was unable to finish conveying his outrage as Spock stepped up to him, their faces just inches apart.

“I believe you are afraid that if you were to go further than the safety of your camp you would fail.” With that wisdom imparted Spock made a swift exit, leaving an open mouthed Jim in his wake. 

No intended location in mind, he found his feet had taken him back to the GUARD van where Scotty and Uhura were finishing up the communication panels. Exhaustion and frustration warred inside of Jim before he sat down with a groan, leaning against a back tire before falling asleep. It is because of this that he can’t be sure if what he remembers next had indeed occurred or was merely a dream. 

Uhura had exited the van at some point and come to sit next to his head. After humming a song that he didn’t recognize, she soon began to tell him a story...her story.

“You know Jimmy, I’m not Starfleet either. I had to fight my way west after the virus killed the last family I had left. I sure surprised to those boys; dirty, machete drawn, and battle weary. I didn’t do half as well on my own as you did, not even close. Once I joined GUARD they had to train me, and even now with all the experience I have under my belt I don’t think I could do what you did all on my own. I misjudged you the other day, you are smart - you have an inner strength. If you did ever decide to join GUARD, and I won’t be repeating this, but I would be glad to serve alongside you.”

The words then got mixed up inside a lullaby, pulling him down into a deeper sleep. When he next opened his eyes the sun had disappeared from the sky and Gwen of all people was shaking him awake.

“C’mon Jim, rise and shine,” she cooed as he sluggishly lifted himself up off of the dirt. “We’re having a bonfire!”

“You’re sure in a good mood,” he grumbled once he was on his feet, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Naturally,” she smirked, taking his hand in hers and tugging him along. “You of all people should know that I love a good bonfire.” At this he couldn’t help but chuckle, even if it was short lived. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Jim said, slowing down and tugging Gwyneth back until they were walking at a much slower pace. 

“Of course,” she replied, brow furrowing when she realized the seriousness of his stance and expression.

“Not taking into account that you were in Starfleet, I want to know what you think of GUARD.”

“ _James_ ,” she sighed, exasperatedly rolling her eyes, “I can’t remove eight years of my life from how I view the world. You know better than that.” He was forced to nod in agreement, the gaze she leveled him with reminding Jim just how stubborn she could be. It was no wonder they were friends. “I think that GUARD is a great idea, the goals they’re striving for are exactly what we need. They’re taking what we’ve done here and trying to bring it to the rest of the country...rest of the world if they can. It’s great...why?”

Jim groaned. As they were getting closer, he could smell the fire and see the sparks of ash over some of the lower rooftops. He was afraid that Gwen would feel that way, and he knew that he had no real reason to dislike GUARD as much as he did. It was just that the implications of it all was more than he could bring to words. 

“They want you to go with them, don’t they,” Gwyneth interrupted his reflections.

“Yeah...yeah, they do...” he murmured. 

They would soon enter the cleared area where the bonfire was being held, but before they could get much closer Gwen pulled him down a small alleyway. This was a conversation that they needed to finish in private. 

“You’re upset about this,” she stated, meeting his eyes and holding the gaze. It didn’t take long for him to avert his eyes and break his arms from her hold, preferring to stomp in a short circle while letting out frustrated noises. 

“They’re just so _insistent_ about it!” he finally wailed, making one final stomp before letting Gwyneth trap him in her grip. 

“Do you know why? It’s because they see greatness in you.”

“What? You think I should leave, too?” he challenged, effectively ignoring what she had just said, “You don’t think they need me here anymore?”

“Jim!” she finally shouted, her irritation getting the best of her, “Nobody wants you _gone_ , we’ll always want you here and we do need you, but have you ever thought about what you could accomplish out there? We can carry on without you if we have to, because you need to think of yourself. There’s no reason for you to let something as stupid as _Iowa_ hold you back. You never wanted to be stuck here, and you’ll never be happy if you turn this into your prison. With you in GUARD I can find the energy to hope for a better world.”

Overwhelmed, Jim grabbed onto her arms in a mimicry of the way she was holding onto his. “I’m not him Gwen...I’m not some hero...” he managed, turning his head to stare at the empty street outside their hiding place.

“Never said you were,” she soothed, deflating from her sudden lecture, “you’re great in your own right, Jimmy, and I hope you understand that one day.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he mumbled, eyes turned downward as if having developed a sudden intense interest in the pavement beneath his feet. Gwyneth smirked, running her fingers through Jim’s hair. “So you think I should do it, then?”

“You need to make that decision on your own. You know that you’re like a brother to me; I only want the best for you and whatever you choose won’t have any affect on the way I, or anyone at camp for that matter, think of you.” Having that said, she pulled him forward and back onto the street. “C’mon, we’ve got a bonfire to get to.” 

The bonfire itself wasn’t a terribly eventful affair. Jim sat next to Gwen and was uncharacteristically silent the entire time. It wasn’t until almost everyone had turned in for the night that anything noteworthy happened. 

“What’s got you down in the dumps?” Jim looked up in surprise to see Dr. McCoy addressing him from across the fire. The doctor had been drinking bourbon the entire night and it seemed to have loosened him up a bit...at least enough to start taking an interest in him for some reason. 

“Nothin’,” he shrugged it off, not wanting to get into it.

“Sure, and I’m a zookeeper.”

Jim chuckled, shaking his head a little as he stared into the slowly dying flames. There was a lot that he had to think about tonight. After everything he’d been through, Jim continued to think that there was nothing left that could surprise him and he was consistently proven wrong. What caught him off guard this time was Bones abandoning his seat in favour of taking the chair next to him. 

“Somethin’s eating at ya. I can only take my guesses, but for what it’s worth the one thing that all of this shit has taught me is that you have to adapt,” he advised, taking another swig of bourbon before offering Jim the bottle. “Also that good liquor is not something you should ever take for granted.”

Bewildered, Jim couldn’t help but give a hollow laugh as he took the offered drink. “Adapting...sure you’re not underplaying it a little?”

“Word’s as good as any. To say a lot has changed is sure as hell the understatement of the century. I’m from Georgia, and I ain’t in Starfleet. Made it to Santa Fe after the infection, tried to help as many people as I could. Apparently good doctors are as rare as good booze these days.”

“I understand that, I really do...it’s just...Bones? Do you ever regret joining GUARD?” Jim asked, turning to face the other man as he answered. 

“I’ve got a lot of regrets. I wish I’d been able to track down the ex-wife and my little girl. Regret that everyday, but feelin’ guilty about something ya can’t change isn’t going to get you nowhere. In GUARD I’ve been able to help a lot of people and if I’m lucky I’ll find ‘em somewhere, who knows. I’m a doctor, not a soldier but sometimes you just have to take a shot in the dark and see what happens.”  

“Thanks Bones...I really needed that,” Jim responded, clapping Bones on the shoulder, grateful as he stood up to head in for the night. 

“No problem kid. Starting to not even mind you callin’ me ‘Bones’ all the time.” 

His answering grin was the most sincere smile Leonard had seen from the boy yet. The fire was on it’s last breaths and he too decided it was best to call it a night, heading the opposite direction toward the accommodations that had been provided for the GUARD officers. 

Finally in his own bed, Jim found he couldn’t sleep. His brain kept mulling over everything that Gwen and Bones had said. How Spock had accused him of being afraid. Uhura’s barb about cowardice, whether meaningful or not. More than all of that, though, was Pike and everyone else who looked at him and saw the ghost of his father. 

He was James Tiberious Kirk, and his life was his own to shape.


	3. San Francisco

_“I’ve been waiting, I’ve been waiting, I’ve by crying away I need this,” - Don’t Hold Back, The Sleeping_

 

Sun hit the side of the old Academy building causing a glare that blinded Jim as he walked past it, ocean bound. Arriving three days ago, it had been the first thing he’d wanted to see and he’d been too busy to get a chance. Now that he finally had some free time this was an atrocity that he saw fit to rectify immediately. If you didn’t look closely, the streets of San Francisco appeared like they lived outside of the infection; people bustling around doing whatever it is they were doing, shops open with customers going in and out...but it wasn’t any paradise. Most of the cities inhabitants were listless, milling about just to pass the time since the resources were no longer available for their profession and thus jobs were incredibly limited. However, even with this knowledge Jim couldn’t help but feel his spirits lift with a greater sense of hope for their cause.

It didn’t take long for him to reach the water and find a secluded spot to lay back and enjoy the ocean breeze. The view was scenic, everything that one is promised by the holovids and advertisements, perhaps even better. For Jim it was the perfect place to take a moment to breath, to reflect. 

He had decided to accept Pike’s offer and join GUARD. This required his calling of a huge meeting, where he announced his intentions and reassigned responsibilities. Before he knew it they were California bound. The past few days were spent settling into his new quarters and being briefed of the finer details and intricacies of GUARD. Christopher Pike did not do things in halves; this was a fact that became startlingly apparent with all of the rules and regulations. 

What pissed him off to no end was that he had to take basic training alongside the other new recruits. Pike and his team _knew_ how prepared Jim was for this lifestyle, they had seen it with their own eyes. It was Spock who had insisted that they comply with regulation. That Vulcan got under his skin like no other. 

The silver lining was that he had found out Kevin Riley was among these new recruits. Before the comm networks collapsed he had still kept in contact with Kevin, but they hadn’t seen each other in person since shortly after they were rescued from Tarsus IV. Jim wasn’t surprised he had decided to join GUARD; 7 years younger than him, Kevin had dreamed of a future in Starfleet for as long as Jim had known him. He held a genuine sympathy for the younger man’s dream that had been taken from him. 

Tomorrow was the first training day, and he wondered what Spock would do if he just didn’t show up. Even so, he had come too far to not take this thing seriously. Despite the fact that he doubted Pike would kick him out of GUARD after expending so much effort into convincing him to join, it wasn’t a chance he was willing to take. 

 

* * *

 

As Spock entered the training room the recruits that had been waiting sprung to attention, eyes searching him for some sort of order...that is, aside from James Kirk. Exuding confidence, he leaned against the wall and appraised Spock in an entirely different way. His brow furrowed, but only for a moment before he straightened his face and addressed the room. 

“This is your first day of training. We will be working on offensive skills including both physical ability and weapons training. Unless there are questions we shall proceed to the gymnasium.” 

He was unsurprised when the only hand that was raised was Kirk’s. Spock gave him a nod, curious what the man could possibly have to say. 

“Is there any way that we can test out of these things? This is probably going to take all day.”

“There is a pressing matter that you need to attend to?” Spock inquired, raising an eyebrow. Kirk’s only response was to roll his eyes and slouch back, waiting until the last minute to follow them to the gym. 

“You will now be doing a series of exercises to test your strength and stamina,” Spock introduced. The recruits were required to complete at least 10 pull-ups, 50 sit-ups, 50 pushups, 5 bench presses of their max amount, and complete a timed 3 mile run. Jim’s success in these tasks was to be expected. Spock had never doubted his ability to complete the exercises, it was the limits to these abilities that he needed to know as Pike intended to place Kirk under his command. 

After allowing the recruits a sufficient amount of resting time, they moved to the firing range. A variety of weapons were laid out on the table before them and the outdoor facility had a large amount of mannequins for them to practice on. 

“Please select the weapon you find best suited for the task,” Spock lead off, standing off to the side to watch them make their selections. Kirk considered the choices before walking off, exiting the range. This seemed to throw off his fellow recruits but Spock dismissed it. He would be answering to Pike, not him, when he filed his report.

Once all of the recruits had chosen, they took turns running through the course. After each turn Spock explained their and the weapons shortcomings, making special note of the flaws that would have gotten them killed, before exhibiting the proper way to fight zombies with the weapon of choice. They were over half-way through the exercise when Spock noticed Kirk walking towards them with a crowbar in hand. 

“I had to get this out of a storage shed,” he said by way of greeting, twirling the tool around haphazardly. 

“As it was not a tool provided for your selection I cannot count it toward your overall training score,” Spock replied.

“No that’s not what you said,” Kirk countered, “You just said to select the weapon you found best suited for the task. I went and selected my weapon.”

“It is illogical to assume that you are required to-”

“Hey don’t try to logic your way out of this. You’re just mad because I’m right,” he smirked. 

“That is incorrect, as Vulcans do not feel anger.” Spock’s response was automatic. He then took more time to consider Kirk’s argument. Statistically there had always been a 93.648% chance that with any weapon chosen from the table, Jim would be the most successful recruit to complete the course. It would therefore be a waste of time to argue the point further when the outcome would likely be identical. “Very well, you may proceed.”

Stepping out of the way, Spock gave Kirk free reign on the field. He moved quickly, often using the crowbar to first knock the dummies down before delivering the killing blow. When he had the proper leverage he could pierce through the mannequins head, but more often then not Kirk hooked them through an eye socket. When he finished the course he was barely out of breath, having not even broken a sweat - more than can be said for a majority of the recruits. His completion of the task was followed by applause. 

Spock did not sigh as he filled out the second portion of Jim’s form before walking back to the gymnasium. None of the others who had yet to go through the exercise saw fit to correct the Commander. 

“For the final task you will be paired with a fellow recruit for sparring. This will be a test of your hand to hand combat ability. Choose a partner and then begin.”

This was yet another activity that Kirk excelled at, though he did not make things miserable for his opponent. If anything, Jim corrected and instructed those he fought against. For Spock, this was the first instance in which he saw James Kirk’s ability to interact with others - his potential as a leader. Unfortunately one action did not counter the multitude of character flaws he had observed in the human.  

While Kirk was doing his best to be helpful, his impromptu training session was making it impossible for Spock to assess their skill level. As he walked out onto the floor all activity stopped, eyes on him. 

“Kirk,” he said, motioning with his head for the man to come over. 

“Yeah?” Jim questioned, looking skeptical.

“I will have to ask you to leave. You have passed this training session on all counts and now I must continue to evaluate the others.”

“What?!” he near shouted, outrage covering his tone, “I was helping!”

“This is not an instruction based exercise, but an assessment of skills one currently possesses. The addition of a teaching component will skew the results,” Spock explained, gripping the clipboard still as he held his arms behind his back, posture stiffening as he met Kirk’sgaze. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it. They need to be able to protect themselves as soon as possible. You need people out there.”

“We need adequately trained individuals,” he countered with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Yeah, so why are you waiting?”

“Once the assessment period has been completed the recruits will be separated into groups of those with similar skill levels. Then they will be properly taught. We do not have the resources to train each recruit on an individual basis, Mr. Kirk.”

“It’s Jim and I know that. Doesn’t mean you can’t let me help, though.”

“ _Jim_ , I must ask you again to leave. Now you are only delaying that which you moments ago deemed as an endeavor that must be completed promptly.”

“C’mon, Spock!”

“Please exit the gymnasium or I will be forced to use drastic measures.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Will you willingly leave the premises?” Spock inquired, moving his arms forward and taking a step closer. 

“I will when you start making sense,” was Kirk’s retort. There was nothing further said as Spock swiftly took him out of commission with a Vulcan nerve pinch. 

 

* * *

 

“He’s fucking insane! I thought Vulcans were supposed to be logical, who the hell does that?!” Jim complained to McCoy the next day after being forced to spend the night in sickbay. 

“Yeah yeah, quit your bellyaching. If ya were smart you wouldn’tve tried arguing with him in the first place,” the doctor replied, not looking up from the readouts on his PADD. 

“Well someone has to! You guys can’t just let him get away with making all of the decisions when he’s wrong, or when there’s a better way to do something. I’m not saying Spock isn’t smart, because he is, but he’s too stubborn!”

At this McCoy looked up, his eyebrow raised. “That’s something the two of you have in common there, Jimbo.”

“Ugh! Not you too, Bones! What do they have a special GUARD training session for condescending eyebrow tactics that I don’t know about?!”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous.” 

“You’re being ridiculous,” Jim muttered petulantly as he sat on one of the biobeds. The doctor was taking this time to test his allergies and his immune system.

“Is there anything you’re not allergic to?!” he exclaimed, eyes finally moving away from the PADD to stare at him as if he had chosen this. 

“Oh come on, I’m not allergic to _everything_...though I find new things I’m allergic to all the time...”

“Your immune system is terrible, too. How have you not died from some common bug yet?”

“Wow Bones, I didn’t know you were such a drama queen. You’re very funny.”

“Alright, I’ll bite. What is it? There’s no way you could have survived the number of doctor’s visits I’m guessing you’ve had without finding the reason,” Leonard said, mood becoming more serious as he sat on the biobed across from him. 

“Yeah, well...I was born in space. In a shuttle. Guess that’s not the best way to spend the first few weeks of your life,” Jim answered with a self-depreciating huff.

“Of course you were,” McCoy grumbled, “Space is disease and danger wrapped in darkness and silence.” 

“Hah, so I take it Starfleet was never on your agenda.”

“Like hell! I’m a doctor, not an explorer.”

“I dunno Bones, I can see you out there. Patching up all of the diseased and danger exposed crew members,” Jim joked, albeit sarcastically.

“You’re a pain in my ass already. You’re also good to go,” the doctor proclaimed, turning off the system that had been used to evaluate his immune system.

“Aww but we were having so much fun!”

“Stop being such an infant and get out of my sickbay before I stick you with a vaccine. I can’t have you just cluttering the place up and distracting my nurses. You’re a waste of space,” McCoy said, shooing Jim towards the door.

“Aww Bones you know you love it!” Kirk called back, smiling before leaving the room. He began walking towards his quarters, ready to just relax for the day. It was sunny and warm, just as it had been all week. Despite the long grass, the grounds looked vibrant and inviting. 

“Hey Jim!” He turned around to see Sulu running to catch up to him.

“Hey,” he replied, a genuine smile gracing his features. Hikaru Sulu was an easy guy to be friends with. Even though they hadn’t known each other for very long, Jim felt confident enough in his judgement of the man’s character to make that kind of assessment. 

“So I heard you made a huge impression for the first day of training,” Hikaru said with a grin once they were walking side by side. 

“I guess you could say that.” Jim’s response was more tentative than usual. He didn’t have much evidence as to whether or not the impression he made was good or bad. Based on Spock’s reaction, or more like overreaction, he had been leaning more toward the bad side of the spectrum. 

“I actually saw some of it. Impressive to say the least, I mean I don’t think I’d even be able to do that well on the training courses _now_ and I was a Starfleet officer before all of this.”

“Okay, now you’re just humouring me,” Jim rolled his eyes and scoffed, putting his hands in his pockets. He would admit that he had been showing of a _little_ bit, but he was still just a random kid from Iowa. Most of what he knew about combat had been learned in bar brawls and underground fights, gambling on his own ability. Once he had gotten good enough it was a pretty reliable way to get some income. Gwyneth had long since gotten her commission in Starfleet, not to mention married with children, but that didn’t stop her mother from continuing to fuss over him or her sisters from constantly demanding his presence. 

If he was being completely honest, he counted most of his success in the realm of zombie killing on the black market phaser he acquired shortly after the ban. His philosophy was that it was always best to be prepared. For once he was disheartened when he was proven right. 

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a force to be reckoned with. How much do you know about fencing and swordplay in general?” Sulu asked. 

“Not overly much...I mean, I can wield a machete no problem. When I was younger I messed around with swords a little bit - maybe a month or two when I knew these guys...really sketchy guys...” he trailed off, not wanting to get into telling his life story. He’d probably already said too much. As far as Jim was concerned, the less people knew about him the better. 

“Well, regardless, we should fence sometime before it’s time to hit the road again. I can definitely teach you.” It didn’t seem as if he had deterred Sulu at all with his awkward and distant behavior. 

“Sure, that sounds good.”

 

* * *

 

The second day of training was all about survival. Spock began the day easily, with a simple lecture on different survival strategies. Of course nothing was easy when it came to James T. Kirk, who was purposely defiant as he interrupted almost every mentioned scenario with critiques. At this point Spock did not know if these were all based on experience or if the man was simply dissecting everything he said with the sole purpose of finding fault. Never had he been so exhausted from lecturing, and never had the lecture lasted so long. Relief was a human emotion, but Spock would admit to feeling a small measure of exhaustion when they arrived in the simulation room for the survival simms. 

“I’m not comfortable with this,” Jim surprised him by saying after pulling him away from the group.

“With your apparent superior knowledge of survival tactics I am sure your group with successfully survive the simulation,” Spock replied, having trouble resisting the urge to lift his eyebrow. He would never understand this human.

“Just because I know how to do it doesn’t mean I want to experience it,” he countered, stubborn as ever. 

“If you do not complete the simulation, I will not be able to finish your profile and properly assign you to your training course.”

“Oh come _on_! Even with this as a zero there can’t be any way I don’t get into the highest ranking training course,” Jim claimed, making hand motions in his attempt to prove his point.

“I cannot say that with any statistical accuracy as you have only completed 4 aspects of a 9 part basic training evaluation,” was Spock’s reply. 

“Oh my god, Spock! You can’t be serious right now!”

“I assure you, Mr. Kirk, I am always serious.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to see that,” he griped. 

It was with great reluctance that Kirk entered the simulation with his assigned group. As it turned out, had he not participated in the simulation there was no way the others would have passed - an admittedly disappointing revelation in regards to the amount of training the other recruits would require. Upon exiting the simulator, Spock’s eyebrows scrunched together as he observed Jim having what appeared to be a mild anxiety episode. Recruit Riley had gone into hysterics in the middle of the simulation and it was in fact Kirk who calmed him and convinced him to power through the exercise. It was a more severe reaction than he usually observed from humans who complete the simulation. 

“Do you require medical attention?” Spock asked, hand inching toward the internal comm device on the wall.

“No, no, I’m fine. I’ll see Bones later anyway,” he replied, already seeming to get ahold of himself. 

“Very well.”

After the second group completed the survival system, with no episodes Spock might add, it was time for the attack simulations. Kirk raised no protests when this activity was announced, so Spock concluded that there was a 71.4% chance that the abnormal reaction was not caused by the simulator itself. Jim sat on the floor against a wall as he watched the others go in one by one to complete the simulation. Most lost within 15 minutes of the battle. It appeared he was content with going last.

“This isn’t like the Kobayashi Maru, is it?” Riley inquired as he walked up to the simulator to take his turn. 

“It is not a no-win scenario,” Spock replied, he would not have expected that the young man knew of the simulation. It had been quite some time since it had last been run. 

This seemed to provide the recruit with more confidence, though his performance did not deviate from the current trend. A few more recruits ran through the simulation before it was only Kirk left. Spock had not noticed it earlier, as he had been paying most of his attention to the other’s progress in the simulation, but Kirk seemed to be angry as he stepped into the simulator. Before the battle begins, the participant gets to choose his weapons. It was surprising when Jim armed himself with a hammer, a handheld drill,  a compact hand bow, and a pistol - all horrible choices. The other items he chose included a kevlar vest, a pocket full of rubber bands, a lighter, and a handkerchief that he secured around his neck. 

“What’s he doing?” one of the recruits whispered. Spock was also curious. 

Kirk began the simulated battle with the horde slowly approaching him. His expression revealed nothing, rivaling that of a Vulcan for it’s lack of emotion. He just calmly took an arrow out of his quiver and used it to rip a section of his bandana. 

“Fascinating,” Spock murmured.

Once he had fashioned the piece of cloth around the end of the arrow, he lit it on fire and took aim. At this point the zombies were roughly 30 feet away, but Kirk did not rush the shot - his aim was carefully calculated when he finally fired the incendiary arrow. It hit home, engulfing a zombie several rows into the throng in flames. Par to the course, the corpse continued forward as if nothing had happened. It wasn’t long before two more zombies were consumed in flames. Jim didn’t stand around watching the growing fire, instead preparing another arrow and aiming it still farther back as the trudging zombies reached the 15 foot mark. Spock was not surprised when this shot also was on target. Undoing the bandana from his neck, he quickly ripped the fabric with his hands before shoving it in the opposite pocket as the lighter and rubber bands before drawing his pistol. 

Jim’s aim was lethal as he fired 4 quick rounds, all becoming embedded in the foreheads of his pursuers. With no warning, he darted left and didn’t stop until he reached a fire escape. He managed to jump onto the ladder without releasing it to the ground, not that the zombies had the ability to climb. Others had tried this tactic to eventually fall once the persistent creatures had managed to shake it into it’s eventual collapse. Kirk then kneeled down and began to fashion the rest of his arrows, looking down every so often to gauge his opponents progress - they were closing in. He began to hum an old Russian folk song as he took down most of the zombies with fire.

“Holy shit,” someone whispered. Never had the observation room in the simulation lab been so quiet, it was almost reverent. 

One fire-free zombie reached the fire escape only to have Kirk knock the ladder down, impaling it straight through the head. Out of arrows and with a few more undead to pick off, he finished climbing up to the very top of the fire escape before smashing through the topmost window. This route was unprecedented. 

With a great sense of urgency, he dashed around the building, made it to the roof, and shimmied down a pipe to the alley below. From there he was able to avoid the still blazing fire at the front of the building. He ran far away from the initial location, revving his drill as he did so - a calling card for the remaining zombies to follow him. Now permitted some time to rest before the sluggish creatures could get anywhere near the close-combat region he needed them to be, Jim sat down on the sidewalk taking deep breaths. His eyes never strayed from his pursuers. 

“He’s going to win. He’s going to win with a fucking hand drill and a hammer...one second!” One of the recruits dashed out of the observation lab. Spock did not divert his attention from the screen. 

By the time Kirk stood back up, readying himself for the hardest part of the battle, his audience had increased. Captain Pike, Doctor McCoy, Lieutenant Sulu, Ensign Chekov, Mr. Scott, Miss. Uhura, Doctor Marcus, Nurse Chapel, and Lieutenant Gaila, among others were in attendance. He picked up the drill that he had sat next to him and proceeded to fight in close combat, using the drill to pierce through their eye sockets until it ran out of charge - it had only been at half power to begin with. There were only around ten zombies left when Jim chucked the drill at the head of the closes approaching creature. 

“Oh there’s no way he’ll lose now,” Nyota muttered, her words contrasting with the way she gripped onto Spock’s elbow. Despite the barrier of clothing, it was apparent to the Vulcan that she was imagining herself in such a situation. 

In one hand Jim held the hammer, and in the other the pistol - 5 shots left, and used with stunning accuracy. Once the gun was unloaded it became a secondary bludgeon, extensions of Kirk’s hands as he decimated the infected bodies. He was panting as the simulation whited out, weapons and virtual blood vanishing from his person, room filling with the sound of cheers. Pike had switched the two-way function to reveal the observatory. 

Spock was begrudgingly impressed, having trouble suppressing the illogical anger he felt toward the recruit. As impressive as the performance had been, it was obviously meant to undermine Spock’s influence as an instructor. Feeling no need to remain now that all of the days training activities had been completed, he quietly exited the room.

 

* * *

 

“ ‘at was th’ most impressife battle simm I may’ve ever seen!” Scotty exclaimed as Jim helped him reassemble the innards of a life support system. He’d never been explained what had been wrong with it, and he couldn’t help but feel uneasy that the man felt so comfortable just shutting one down to tamper with it. Some questions were best left unanswered, though. 

“Nyet, it vas definitely best battle simm. How is eet zat you hawe newer been in official combat training?” Chekov asked, distractedly toying with a screwdriver. He had been assisting before Jim had arrived, but had lost interest in the repair work in favour of excitedly recounting exploits from Jim’s fight the previous day. 

Long past the point of trying to discourage the subject, he simply laughed and pushed some of his slightly sweat soaked hair back from his forehead. “I didn’t have the most cushy upbringing, plus I mean...you gotta do something when you’re bored in the middle of nowhere, right?” he deflected. 

“Vould you hawe been scared if not for zee fact zat you knew it vas simulation?”

“...I’m not sure. Brain kind of just...shuts off when I’m that focused...” he muttered in response, fixing the last piece into place and moving back so that Scotty could reattach the cover and install the machine back into the wall. 

“Aye, ‘at I can sure kin. Seems tae be the way it works out thaur.”

“Wow guys,” Jim decided to change the subject, “if I start spending a lot of time working with you too I don’t know if I’ll come out sounding Russian or Scottish.”

“You vill be our lovechild ovf course,” Pavel replied with a smug smirk, causing everyone to erupt into laughter. It didn’t last for long, though, because at that moment the door swooshed open to reveal a very cross looking Uhura. 

“Oy! I huvnae gone near yer stuff!” was Scotty’s immediate assertion. 

“That’s not why I’m here,” she replied with a roll of her eyes, “may I borrow Kirk, please?” Not bothering waiting for them to agree she turned around, ponytail flipping as she marched out of the room. Within moments Jim found himself meeting her in the hall.

“What’s this about?” he asked warily. Obviously this wasn’t something good, or if it was she sure had an odd way of portraying it. 

“I want to know what your problem is,” she asked, not yet overtly confrontational with her arms crossed and eyes shooting daggers. 

“Okay, some more context would really h-”

“Spock? Your training sessions? That simulation yesterday? Is that enough context?!” Uhura was now making wild gestures with her arms and Jim fleetingly wondered if she was just doing Spock’s dirty work for him. You know, since it would be illogically emotional to confront Jim himself of course.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responded, voice flat and toneless as he silently dared her to come out and say it. 

 “Bullshit! You’ve been trying to undermine him every chance you get!”

“Yeah? And how would you know that?” he challenged.

“Based on the footage and what I’ve heard from Spock-”

“Oh so he put you up to this, did he?”

Now she just looked plain furious. If Jim wasn’t so naturally fearless, he may have run away. As it was, the thought was a little tempting. “Spock would never in a million years ask me to do something like this! The fact of the matter is he _is_ my friend and my teammate, so if you think I’m going to stand around and let you try to make a joke out of him and GUARD’s poli-”

“That’s really what you think I’m trying to do, yeah?!” Now they were both yelling, constantly interrupting the other.

“It sure seems that way, Kirk. What do you have to say for yourself?!”

“I don’t need to take your stupid training exercises, I know-”

“And it’s not good to practice or get refre-”

“Oh so you think I need practice? That I’ll get myself killed out th-”

“Either way that’s no reason to-”

“If he wasn’t such a goddam dick about everything maybe I’d humour him!”

“There’s a difference between being a dick and being a Vulcan, Kirk! He’s not purposefully singling you out to-”

“Like he would tell you if he was!”

“If he was I wouldn’t blame him!”

Jim glared at her as he constructed his next sentence, wanting this conversation...this _argument_ to just end already. “How would you feel if you were specifically strong-armed into serving in an organization and then forced to prove yourself worthy for it? I know the importance of keeping fit, and what kind of leader would I have made for the camp if I couldn’t use basic weaponry? I wouldn’t be alive if I didn’t know how to defend myself in hand to hand combat, nevermind the past few years of war and apocalypse. Same thing for basic survival training. All of this - you think _I’m_ the one making a joke out of someone? How do you think this makes _me_ feel?!” 

The steam and fire that had radiated every inch of Uhura had slowly began to extinguish throughout the course of his monologue. She now seemed indecisive of her next approach. 

“You’re not the only overly qualified person to have to complete the training,” was her eventual response. 

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Scotty had to do the training too.”

Now Jim just scoffed. “Spock has zero respect for Scotty.”

“Where did you come up with that?!” He couldn’t help the groan of frustration that escaped him, but he resisted the urge to pull at his hair and slam his head against the wall. How on Earth, or any other planet really, could Uhura be so blissfully unaware of this kind of thing?

“Mr. Scott? _Mr._ Scott?! Are you serious? Uhura, he’s _Starfleet_. He created a device for _transwarp beaming_ , do you know what that _means_?! This is one of the smartest guys I’ve ever met, and he’s a Lieutenant Commander. Mr. Rank-Obsessed-Spock has never, that I’ve heard, addressed him as _Lieutenant Commander_ Scott. What’s that about?!”

As he expected, Uhura was gaping at him like a fish. “Well...I didn’t know- there has to be a reason, Jim. I mean you said so yourself, you know how precise he is with all of that...”

“Whatever the reason is, I don’t care. As ‘illogical’ as emotion is, he sure is upfront enough about who he likes and dislikes. I asked specifically to be exempt from _one exercise_ after he convinced me to just do the damn training and-”

“The survival simulation,” she nodded in confirmation.

“Yeah, that. What if I couldn’t- this isn’t the kind of...there was no way that was made with this current situation in mind, not like the battle one.”

“You’re right,” she seemed surprised at this, “it wasn’t. It was made after a colony was-”

“I know damn well why it was made,” Jim spat, glaring at his own feet and silently berating himself for his own weaknesses. 

“Wait...was it like...like a trigger, or something?” she asked hesitantly. 

“We’re not talking about it. All I’m saying is that there was no reason for me to take that simulation after asking specifically to be opted out but Spock and his damn forms and evaluations couldn’t make _one_ exception, even though I’m sure I fucking scored top marks in every single other training ev-” 

“Morale is part of the evaluation,” Uhura supplied with a raised eyebrow that kind of gave Jim the urge to kick her, even though he wouldn’t admit it.

“Fine, near top marks on every other event that, as I already mentioned, I _didn’t even need to take_.” 

“Well that’s something you would have had to go to Pike for, which you would have been in your rights to do. We don’t know your life story, you know. No one’s going to treat you like a little princess just because you’re good at what you do.”

“Because that’s what I was going for, you figured me out,” came his sarcastic response. 

“Well what do you want, then.” It sounded like more of a statement than the question that it was.

“I don’t know, respect? Because this isn’t Starfleet, I don’t have to demean myself for the higher ranking officers above me. The things I’ve done in my life actually matter. I’m not some spoiled brat, but it’s nice to know that the people around you actually have a high opinion of you and don’t think you’re some trashy bar rat who would be better off rotting in prison somewhere.”

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

“See! It’s that kind of snide little statements that make me feel like this was the stupidest decision I’ve made in a long time. I can see why you and Spock are friends, because it seems like you both have a mutual prejudice against anyone you deem inferior to you-” Jim was interrupted by a slap in the face. This was quickly becoming a common form of interaction between the two of them. 

“What about you?! You’ve made no attempt to hide your disdain for authority figures and Starfleet in general. How do you think you come off here?!”

“I don’t care! I really don’t care,” he snapped, a hand still covering his stinging cheek. Thank good she hadn’t been wearing any jewelry. 

“You think that everyone else is the problem, you know that?!”

“I’m fucking aware of my issues, okay! You don’t know anything about me, remember?! If you don’t want me here, I’m happy to leave okay?! I didn’t leave Gwen in charge of the camp to jus-”

“Gwen is fine, and we do want you here. You’re a great asset-”

“Well what if I don’t want to be treated like an asset?”

Uhura sighed deeply and seemed to crumble before him. If that wasn’t a surrender, he didn’t know what was. “I think you and Spock need to talk,’ she said finally before walking away. 

It wasn’t until the next day that Jim spoke to anyone about this incident, relaying it to Bones as he once again haunted him around the sickbay. If he had also had to explain his anxiety attack from the other day, that was another thing. 

“You would go baiting the hobgoblin,” the doctor replied as he ran some blood tests from another patient.

“I was not!”

“Not sayin’ ya don’t have your reasons. Hell, I make a point to make things difficult for the bastard on purpose sometimes, teach him a lesson for all the times he just rubs me the wrong way. Spock’s logical ass needs a good kicking once an’ awhile.”

“You’re telling me,” Jim grumbled, flopping into the desk chair that McCoy had abandoned in favour of doing his work standing. 

“That being said, you’re still gonna have to work with ‘im so you can’t be at each others throats the entire time.”

“I’m not!”

“Yeah, right. Because you didn’t go change weapons to spite him or refuse to leave the sparring session just to see how mad you could get him.”

“Well...” Jim didn’t have a real response and settled for spinning in the chair.

“ _And_ ,” Bones continued, “I’m sure it never crossed your mind that using the stupidest fucking weapons you could be stranded with on that simm wasn’t a cocky showboating move, either.”

“Ugh! Whatever, Bones. It doesn’t even matter. The last day of training is tomorrow and then no one will have to worry about the two of us not getting along.”

“Like hell! You’re on track for being placed on the main team, aka the team with Spock on it,” Bones replied, shattering Jim’s previous expectations.

“What?! Why would I be on your guys’ team? Isn’t there already 7 officers?” That, he had learned, was the standard amount of officers on a team. 

“Well, thanks to you Pike feels like he can stay at HQ and keep an eye on things here. He’s not gettin’ any younger, y’know.” 

Jim felt more than a little exasperated with the whole ordeal. Sure, he would love to be on the same team as Bones, Chekov, Sulu, and Scotty. Uhura wasn’t always that bad either. He wasn’t prepared for dealing with Spock on a 24/7 basis, though. 

“I’ve got to go. Sulu and I are fencing today,” he excused himself, hopping out of the chair - totally not dizzy - and heading for the side door that would take him out of sickbay without him having to walk out onto the medical floor. 

“What?! Dammit Jim, I swear to god if you get yourself injured with those swords I’m not gonna help you,” McCoy scowled, already becoming increasingly familiar with Jim’s ability to get hurt in almost any situation. 

“Oh come on! This isn’t Hamlet!” 

“Whatever. Try reading something from this century, or at least this millennium. You make the fucking oldest references I’ve ever heard.”

“You still understand ‘em, though!” Jim called back as the door slid shut behind him. Fencing with Sulu ended up going pretty well, with the other man being quite impressed with his abilities even as Jim got his ass handed to him on all counts. Afterwards they went down to the coast and Hikaru gave him a surfing lesson as a way of cooling down after their vigorous workout. The fact that surfing was just as much of a workout seemed to get lost somewhere in the thought process, but Jim wasn’t complaining. When they got back to the Academy Sulu had offered to give him a tour of San Francisco after his final day of training, an offer that he readily accepted even if he hated being reminded of the hell that awaited him when he awoke the next morning.

 

* * *

 

Spock was equally as unenthusiastic when he stood in front of the recruits for the final basic training session. During the lesson on basic Sanctuary set-up Kirk seemed bored and annoyed, and despite his temptation to give in and kick the man out of his class he resisted. It would do him no favours to give in now that he had so vehemently insisted that Kirk take part in these activities. 

Things seemed to perk up once they reached the emergency medical section when Dr. McCoy arrived to take over. Kirk’s mood seemed to skyrocket. Spock stood calmly, hands behind his back, and contented himself to watching the proceedings. The recruits were provided with dummies to work on, all able to showcase a wide variety of injuries that they would likely face once on duty. 

“Hey!” the doctor had shouted at one point once the lecture portion had finished and the recruits were working on their ‘patients’, “Just ‘cause it’s me here doesn’t mean you can take it easy.” The smile that Kirk returned was shameless, but he did begin appropriately and efficiently providing the dummy with medical care. 

If not for his superior hearing, Spock would not have heard their later exchange, once they were finishing up with the more difficult medical procedures. 

“I don’t know, Bones...I think if this were real I wouldn’t have finished in time...he’d’ve been a gonner for sure...” Kirk admitted in hushed tones. Spock tilted his head at this information, having never heard the other man unsure of himself.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re beatin’ yourself up for no reason. None of the others are even finished yet, and if anything you would’ve been even quicker in real life. No way in hell a buncha mannequins are gonna get your adrenaline goin’. Leave it be,” the doctor replied, comforting in his own gruff manner Spock assumed. 

“Thanks...” The subject was then dropped, despite the fact that Kirk did not seem to have changed his mind about his earlier self-assessment. 

It was with great trepidation that Spock lead them back to the simulation lab, where the final simulation was indeed a zombie version of the Kobayashi Maru. It was fortunate that Riley had inquired about it the session before, as to give away that fact would likely lead to a dramatic change in results. He was not surprised when Kirk decided to sit against the wall again, content to go last. Since no one had managed to pass the last simulation, their failures did not cause much surprise among the recruits. What happened next should have been expected, given what he knew of James Kirk and his character. 

The simulation took the participant into an abandoned house that they could not escape, under siege by a horde of zombies. Inside were 4 children and a panicking mother for the individual to protect. Kirk performed valiantly, doing everything that would be expected of a GUARD officer. In the end, the mother and one child died before Kirk himself was killed.

“Start it again,” he demanded when the simm whited out. 

“Excuse me?” Spock asked, alarmed. This was unprecedented.

“You heard me, start it again.”

Not wishing to argue further, Spock obliged. This time Kirk had no casualties and ended up sacrificing himself outright.

“Again!” he shouted once it was over.

“No. Please exit the simulator,” Spock replied. Obviously the man would continue until he had defeated the scenario. Though he tried to put up more of a fuss, Kirk eventually left the simulator in a state of rage that Spock had never witnessed after such a relatively trivial activity. 

“What the hell was that?!” he yelled.

“It was an impossible situation meant to test your reaction upon the eventual realization that you will not survive.” There were gasps from the other recruits, but no one dared contribute to the heated conversation.

“I don’t believe in no-win scenarios,” Kirk replied, as stubborn as ever.

“You of all people should know that one cannot escape death,” Spock replied, his fist clenching unnoticed at his side.

“What?!! I of all people?!”

“ Your father, Lieutenant George Kirk, assumed command of his vessel before being killed in action, did he not?”

“Don’t you dare-” 

Spock ignored the rage building in Kirk’s eyes as he continued, finding that he wished to finally give the recruit a thorough dressing down. “Furthermore you have failed to divine the principal lesson, the purpose of the test.”

“Enlighten me,” he replied, voice tight and strained in the anger he was attempting to contain.

“The purpose is to experience fear, fear in the face of certain death, to accept that fear, and maintain control of oneself and those around you. This is the quality expected in every GUARD officer. Your survival is by no means ensured.”

“Do you think I’m an idiot, you smug little bastard-!” though looking like he had more to say, Kirk cut himself off as his fist collided with Spock’s eye. Vulcans have three times the strength of humans, something Spock was not sure the other man was aware of, and the ensuing fight was by no means a close one.

 

* * *

 

“I shouldn’t even let you off of this campus,” Bones frowned, very displeased at having had to spend another few hours fixing up Jim after the man had done something stupid and ill-advised.

“Are you serious?! If I’m not being kicked out for this and there’s no reason for me to stay here you can’t punish me!”

“You wanna bet,” he threatened, even as he turned around and headed toward the main doors knowing full well that Jim would follow. How the two of them had ended up spending so much time together, he couldn’t fathom. More often then not people found Leonard McCoy unapproachable, which he considered a fine incentive for them to avoid being sent to sickbay. 

“Thanks a bunch, Bones!” Jim grinned, patting the doctor on the shoulder as he walked past and out the doors. 

It was a particularly foggy day as he and Sulu walked along the coastal roads. They had already seen the ruins of the Golden Gate Bridge, one of the many casualties of the war, and had managed to coax one of the cable cars at Nob Hill. They had decided to skip the tourist attractions on the coast, them being as deserted as they were. Instead they found themselves at a sea port, sitting at the end of one of the many docks. Jim could feel the tension of the past week washing away in the calm sea breeze.

“Too bad it’s so foggy,” Hikaru commented, “otherwise I think we’d be able to see the islands from here.”

“There’s always next time,” he assured, content to sink his feet into the water. Upon their arrival he had promptly taken off his shoes, much to the other man’s amusement. Sulu hummed in response before they settled into a companionable silence. Despite how at ease he felt, Jim still couldn’t seem to get Spock out of his head. Eventually he gave up with a sigh.

“Hey Sulu?” he questioned, turning to lean against one of the pillars.

“Yeah?”

“What do you think of Spock?” 

Hikaru chuckled softly while rolling his eyes. “I think a lot of different things about Commander Spock. I mean, I can see how easy it was for you to reach the conclusion that he’s a pain to try to work with...but that’s really just sometimes. He’s a great officer, always trying to do what’s best for everyone.”

Jim nodded in understanding, absently worrying a blemish on the surface of the dock with his finger. “It’s just...hard to imagine working with him,” he settled for, trying to be diplomatic about the whole thing. There were a lot of more impolite things he could say about the Vulcan, but it was obvious that Sulu did respect him.

“I know what you mean. He made me nervous as hell when I first started working with him. We had never been stationed on the same Starship, so it wasn’t until GUARD...I hear that as serious as he was back in the Starfleet days, he’s gotten even more critical now,” Sulu admitted, shrugging it off as something that couldn’t be changed.

“Damn,” Jim breathed, and the conversation came to a natural conclusion. It wasn’t long before they departed the port to head back. Despite the fog they could still see dim traces of the sunset, and neither of them wanted to miss dinner.

 

* * *

 

At dinner Jim sat in a far off table with Scotty, discussing engineering and starships. Before the war, Jim had worked for a little while at the space dock in Riverside. Though that didn’t in itself make him an authority on engineering, his genius level IQ and interest in the subject gave him a decent knowledge of the discipline. Usually Chekov and Sulu would join them, but they had been detained by Uhura who seemed to be whispering something very urgently to them on the far side of the mess.

“What dae ye ‘hink that’s about?” Scotty asked, motioning toward the trio with his sandwich. Jim was quickly becoming aware of the Scotsman’s obsession with a good sandwich. Too each their own, he supposed. 

“No clue...hopefully not anything to do with me and Spock...” he implored to nothing and no one in particular. 

“Ye two jist need tae kiss an’ make up,” was Scotty’s reply through a mouthful of food. 

“Riiight,” Jim rolled his eyes and took a bite of his own sandwich. Montgomery just laughed. “What’s up with you and him anyway? He’s pretty rude to you.” He had been wanting to comment on that for awhile now, but the opportunity hadn’t really come up until now. It seemed illogical for a Vulcan to be purposefully discourteous to someone. Then again, Spock was pretty cheeky for a Vulcan.

“Och, I dunnae. Probably jist doesnae consider me a Starfleet officer anymore. I don’t lit it bother me.”

“That’s not fair, though. You worked hard and you’re brilliant,” Jim complained. At this point he wasn’t sure which factor was in the lead; his outrage on Scotty’s behalf, or his distaste for Spock in general. 

“Now yer jist flatterin’ me.” 

The subject was dropped after that, reverting back to their mutual love for starships and space. When Jim next looked over to see what the other three were doing, they were nowhere to be found. 

The next morning Jim met up with Scotty to help him make some minor adjustments to the van. It didn’t take long for Pavel to show up after they had gotten started, and curiosity ended up winning out over productivity.

“What were you guys and Uhura whispering about last night?” Jim asked without preamble.

“What?!!” Chekov obviously hadn’t realized that they had been aware of that particular event. Both he and Scotty waited patiently for the teen to answer. Finally, with a nervous breath Chekov answered, “Eet ees secret.” 

“Seriously?!” Jim groaned. Where was the solidarity? Never mind the fact that he hadn’t known any of the team for as long as they had each other. Pavel just shrugged his shoulders, seeming to consider the subject dropped.

Jim tried to return focus to the task at hand, but he couldn’t get his mind off of whatever secret was being kept from him. If it had just been Scotty who asked, would they have told him? Did they not want Jim to join their team? Or was this something to do with Spock? Of course it was, everything seemed to come back to that irritating Vulcan. 

“Vat ees wrong, Jim?” Chekov asked, worry coating his words. He hadn’t realized that he had looked visibly upset, and wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it. Maybe with Bones later...maybe. Jim hadn’t factored in the Russian’s puppy-dog expression, or the way Scotty had finally lifted his head from the inside of the hood with concern etched onto his face. 

“Fine,” he huffed, “it’s just...it’s stupid. All of this shit with Spock and you guys plotting something in private...oh forget it.” He’d never been good at talking about his feelings and all of that. 

“Nae one’s plottin’ against ye, Jim. I’m sure it’s fine,” Scotty assured, making a poor attempt at wiping some grease off of his face with his equally greasy hands. 

“Da, ees novfing bad.”

“What do _you_ think about Spock, Chekov?” he asked with a sigh, pretty much giving up on doing anything productive as he sat down in the doorway.

“Oh, vell...zee Commander ees...wery...exact and...harsh. He does a good job zough, and dat ees point, da? For a Wulcan, ees wery good-natured.”

Jim leveled him with an incredulous stare. If Spock was good-natured, he didn’t think he could handle meeting other Vulcans. After a moment or two more of moping around, Scotty shooed him out and he wandered around until he eventually ended up in sickbay.

“Jim,” Christine greeted him with a smirk. Nurse Chapel had taken to calling him Leonard’s shadow.

“Hah hah hah,” was Jim’s smart-alecky retort. “Where’s Bones?”

“Dr. McCoy is in his office. I don’t know if he wants any visitors.”

Jim had tuned her out after ‘office’, making a beeline to the door and easily opening it with the entry code he had sneakily memorized the last time he’d seen his friend use it. 

“Hey, what the hell Jim?!”

“Aww good to see you too,” he replied, crumpling into a chair and glancing around the familiar room listlessly. 

“What’s got you all bothered?” McCoy asked, refocusing on his work.

“Nothing. People keeping secrets.”

“This isn’t high school, come off it. Pry doesn’t even matter anyway. Is this about Spock again?” he looked up at Jim, appraising the troubled expression on the younger man’s face.

“I dunno...maybe...a little, but mostly annoyed with Uhura and her secrets...”

“You just need a good drink. In fact, doctor’s orders.”

Jim let out a surprised laugh, finally smiling. “That settles it then, you’re hanging out with me when your shift ends!”

“What did I get myself into?” he grumbled, even as his lips quirked up. 

“Hey, you said it yourself - doctor’s orders. Bet you need some medicinal alcohol too, Bones.” 

“With you around? God yes.”

“You and Chapel are just a bunch of laughs today, aren’t you?” His trouble was just as genuine as McCoy’s had been. 

 

* * *

 

Seven hours later found the two of them sitting around a table with Chekov, Sulu, and Scotty - despite Jim’s earlier irritation at their tight-lipped behavior - engaged in a game of poker. He may have convinced Bones to have a drink or two before they met up with everyone else, but hey everyone deserves a little fun once in awhile. It had been some time since Jim had been able to relax with a drink, no camp to worry about presently. He had contacted Gwyneth earlier and she had assured him that everything in Des Moines was fine. She had also accused him of mother-henning, at which point he promptly insisted that he had to meet the doctor and ended the transmission. Mother-henning, him? As if. 

“So Jim, what’s up with you and...uh...whatshername?” Sulu asked, the topic having strayed to girls. He just stared at him as if Hikaru had gone crazy. It had been longer than he’d care to admit since he’d been with anyone, so Jim had no idea what he was talking about.

“Gwyneth?” Chekov provided.

“Yeah!”

Jim’s expression changed from one of disbelief to horror. Him and _Gwen_?! “No way in hell!” he blurted without thinking.

“Now I though’ she was a fine lass,” Scotty admonished. 

“Ugh not like that,” Jim replied, covering his face with his hands in frustration, “it’s just that she’s like a sister to me. We grew up together, her mom pretty much raised me my teenage years.”

“Well that doesn’t mean something couldn’t have sparked,” Sulu suggested with a shameless grin.

“She’s married.”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t make your move when you-”

“To a woman.”

There was a chorus of ‘ohhs’ around the table, and Bones started laughing like crazy at all of their expense. 

“How ‘bout you Bonsey? Any lassies in yer life?” Scotty prodded.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me. This nickname of yours better not be spreading!” Bones accused, turning to glare at Jim, who for his part just gave a self-satisfied smirk.

“You and Chapel get up to anything crazy all day alone in sickbay?” he asked, ducking when McCoy tried to smack him.

“Stop your idiotic speculating, ya little gossip,” the doctor snarled, finally landing a hit which sent Jim into a fit of drunken laughter. The others joined in, game all but forgotten.

“Seriously, though, is there anyone on your mind? You and Jocelyn have been over for awhile now,” Sulu said once everyone had calmed down.

“Yeah yeah, fine you infants. Maybe I have my eyes set on a lady, so what. And no Jim, it’s not Chapel.”  

“Vell??” Pavel asked, suspension obviously killing him.

McCoy let out a very put-upon sigh before finally answering, “Do ya’ll know Carol Marcus?”

The table erupted with noise. Jim made an appreciative whistle and slapped his friend on the back as Scotty gave Bones a thumbs up, saying something about how she was a bonnie lass or something. Sulu complemented his taste in women and Chekov had said, “Da, da! She ees wery pretty,” while nodding his head, smile on his face. 

The conversation abruptly ended, though, when Uhura walked into the room. Jim eyed her warily, mindful of their last encounter. 

“Jim,” she said stiffly.

“Uhura.” He raised his eyebrow in an imitation of Spock.

“I just came down here to apologize for the other day. I may have...overreacted.” The words were strained and Jim was pretty sure she didn’t mean it, but it was probably the best things were going to get.

“Apology accepted,” was his icy reply. With an abrupt nod, she stalked out of the room with the eyes of four startled men following in her wake. 

Unbeknownst to Jim, Spock had been doing some asking around on his own which ended in the conversation he had with Nyota prior to her interruption of what could barely be considered a poker game. He had not known of her dispute with Kirk four days ago. 

 

* * *

 

“Here,” Nyota had approached from seemingly out of nowhere, a glass of what seemed to be some sort of chocolate-based alcoholic beverage extended to him. 

“I do not require a drink presently,” he responded automatically.

“Like hell, you’ve had an awful week.”

“Despite the difficulty of this weeks training, I am not troubled by the events that occurred,” Spock said as she sat the drink in front of him before sitting across the table with a drink of her own. 

“You can say that over and over, I’m still not going to believe you. Cheers,” she saluted with her glass, and Spock had no choice but to oblige her and her Terran customs. 

“While I understand the Captain’s reasons for recruiting James Kirk, I do not see him succeeding in this enterprise,” he admitted, eyes flicking back down to the file he had been studying on his PADD. Kirk was incredibly talented, but he did not respond to command and was a disruptive influence on those around him. 

“He acts like such a child, but all of the guys seem to just love him,” Uhura frowned, taking a long swig of her beverage. 

“Yes...I have become aware.”

“Oh?” she looked up, her interest seeming to increase. 

“I have spoken to the others on separate occasions.”

This seemed to cause Nyota unnecessary surprise. She waited a few moments, an expectant look on her face, before speaking, “Well? What did they say?!”

“I spoke to Dr. McCoy during my required visit to the sickbay after our last altercation. His response was, and I quote, ‘I’m not thrilled about you either’,” Spock answered, eyebrow reaching his hairline at just the memory. 

Uhura burst into a fit of laughter but motioned for him to continue. “Oh he would say that, what else?”

“Ensign Chekov said that James does not dislike me, and is simply strong minded as well as stubborn.”

“Come on! I know that you can remember it word for word _and_ do the accent,” she complained.

“I see no logical reason to-”

“And you haven’t finished your drink!” Nyota interrupted. Hers had been empty for awhile, how she had procured a second one he did not know. To appease her, well aware that she would continue glaring at him until he complied, Spock easily downed the beverage and sat the glass aside. 

“As I was saying-”

“One second,” she cut in again, getting up and disappearing into another room only to return with another drink for him.

“This is completely illogical,” he stated, reluctantly accepting the drink.

“It’s supposed to be relaxing, make you less stressed.”

“I do not see how that could possibly-”

“Whatever, get back to the story,” Uhura interrupted yet again with a roll of her eyes. Spock was becoming exasperated and didn’t even notice that he had taken another sip of his drink.

“Yes...do I still have to repeat Chekov’s statement?”

“Mmm definitely,” she nodded, leaning back in her chair.

“Fine. ‘Jim does not dislike you, he ees just wery strong minded and he ees wery stubborn’. Are you satisfied?”

“That was perfect!” Uhura laughed. He did not have a response to such a ridiculous statement, and thus chose to ignore it.

“Lieutenant Sulu was under the impression that ‘maybe you guys are just too opposite...or he’s just, what? Illogical?’ and I am hesitant to dismiss his hypothesis.”

“You two aren’t opposite, I think you’re both equally as inflexible and headstrong.”

Spock resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he finished his second drink and stared he down when she looked like she was going to get him another one. He already felt the chocolate taking it’s toll - his mental faculties were not at their peak performance if he was even thinking about actually rolling his eyes.

“What did Scotty say?” she asked, smartly knowing to move away from _that_ subject. 

“His was the most interesting response, ‘Ye just got ta see ‘im in his element’.”

“Oh my god you did the accent and I didn’t even ask!!” Nyota erupted into a fit of giggles.

“Can you not concentrate on the subject at hand?” he said, looking at her pointedly. 

“Yeah yeah. To be fair, he is pretty impressive. I don’t know how he’s so good at all of the zombie fighting stuff _and_ mechanics, engineering...he can even speak Klingon! Like who is he?”

“Klingon? Is he familiar with any other alien or regional languages?” Spock inquired, finding himself curious.

“That’s the thing, no one knows! For all I know he’s better at xenolinguistics than I am!” she replied, eyes wide at the admission.

“Well...what is your opinion of Jim?” he asked, absentmindedly fiddling with his PADD. Nyota had never seen him distractedly doing anything. 

“He’s not exactly my favourite person, and I’m sure that he’s not a big fan of me but I’ll tell you what I told him - I think the two of you really need to talk.”

“What you told him?”

Looking at the confusingly scandalized expression on her friend’s face, Nyota realized that she might have made a mistake. One thorough reprimanding later and she found herself looking for Jim to apologize. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!! This chapter came out at over 10k I didn't think I'd ever finish it because I had so much stuff I wanted to add before we move to the next town ahhh XD Please let me know what you think! None of this is beta'd since I'm just nano-ing and writing like a crazy person, so I would love to know your opinions :]


	4. Oklahoma City

_“You say you want a revolution, well you know we all wanna change the world,” - Revolution, The Beatles_

 

There was really no underestimating Scotty’s skill, the van was nearly inaudible as they drove down the I-40 E. They had just passed through Arizona and entered New Mexico, the conversation lapsing into silence. Jim watched Bones stare out the back window, and unreadable expression on his face. He knew that his friend had been in Santa Fe before he joined up, so he tried to stay quiet and let him think about whatever memories had surfaced. There were plenty of horrors in his life that he never wanted to voice.  

Honestly, he wasn’t even supposed to be here. All of the other recruits were still in training, put into their skill slots after those three sessions of basic. Jim had been cleared for duty early, though, which was frankly a shock considering how much Spock seemed to despise him. The apology from Uhura had come out of left field, though, and part of him still wondered if Spock had actually been behind it. She had as hungover the next day as the rest of them, though, so there really was no telling. 

Oklahoma City was their destination. They hadn’t been scheduled to depart until Jim had finished his training, but apparently GUARD had received a mayday transmission and were unable to reestablish contact. It was likely going to be hell when they got there, not that the world wasn’t already the inferno incarnate. 

“What do you think’s waitin’ for us there?” McCoy asked, voice scratchy in it’s disuse. 

“Same thing as ever?” It was the only hypothesis he was willing to venture. In reality Jim knew exactly how horrible human nature turned when in the throes of desperation. There were evils in the universe that were best left unmentioned. Something about the look in his friends eyes, though, told him that maybe he wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was.

“How’d they even comm us in the first place?” the doctor asked instead of pressing further into the depths of the corrupt souls of others. Jim barely slept as it was, he didn’t want to have to worry about his friend’s mentality on top of that.

“Well, the network’s shell still exists. That’s how we were able to set up our communications station. I’m sure it’s possible that they were able to do the same thing,” Jim replied, moving to take the seat next to him and slinging his arm over the other man’s shoulder. 

“I couldn’ta done it.”

“Sure you could’ve.” This response landed Jim with an incredulous stare. Despite what Leonard may think, his response had been 100% honest. “When you’re at the end of your rope you have no idea what you’re capable of. It’s a hopeless situation, the urgency is overwhelming your every nerve and it’s the eleventh-hour...I don’t have words for what you can accomplish when things get critical and it’s do-or-die.”

“So you think if it came down to it, anyone could do the crazy ass shit that you pull?” McCoy confirmed, the skepticism in his voice palpable. 

“I don’t believe in no-win scenarios.”

“Yeah, pretty sure I’ve heard that somewhere. Lesson you unleashed on the Commander’s face maybe?”

Jim broke into hysterics, not just at the comment but the ever present fact that Vulcan hearing allowed Spock to be privy to every conversation that took place in the van. McCoy was trying to squash the smile that was fighting it’s way onto his face, but one last look at Jim had him turning back toward the window where at least the grin was less visible. 

“Well, since you’re the expert, what do you think happened to the sad sorry sucker that managed to hail us?”

This sobered him up fast. “I really couldn’t tell ya, Bones. I don’t know what it’s like there...so many different ways the situation could go. Catastrophic conditions lead to deranged decisions.”

“Alliteration? Really?”

“It’s an important lesson, thought you should remember it.” The authenticity of his smile was laughable, it wasn’t fooling anyone.

“Oi! Why don‘ ye two get yer head outta tha‘ winda an‘ help me ‘n Nyota here with this wireless comm setup,” Scotty called from a few feet away.

“Now that sounds like a deranged decision - we’re in a moving vehicle, dammit Scotty! You’re gonna get us all killed messin‘ with that shit in here!”

Jim rolled his eyes and followed Bones over to where the others were sitting around a bunch of scattered parts and tools. There were some things that you could always count on, and Leonard McCoy’s incessant worrying was definitely one of them.  

In total it took three days to arrive.

 

* * *

 

“I believe that the best course of action would be to reestablish our contact with GUARD as soon as possible in order to receive further intel,” Spock announced, not so much as an opinion but as a diplomatically stated order.

“We have all of the intel we need,” Kirk complained, “what we need to do now is find whoever contacted us to begin with. There’s people that need saving, we need to focus on them.”

“Mr. Kirk, I am well aware of the importance of the lives of others. It would be unwise to enter into a situation where there are unknown variables at work.”

“Yeah, well the best way to figure out the variables would be to see them first hand. Pike doesn’t know anymore about this than we do.”

“Regardless, constant contact ensures safety in a mission of this nature,” Spock stated, leveling Kirk with a challenging look that would send most fellow officers backtracking with haste. Apparently his logic had no sway on the other man’s opinions.

“Bullshit, we have to get in there and find any survivors we can. The area needs cleared and they can’t be there for that, it’s too dangerous,” Jim insisted.

“It is too dangerous. We will not initiate any conflict until everything has been established, including communication.”

Kirk began to pace outside of the van, tugging on his hair and muttering something in a language Spock wasn’t familiar with. He turned to Nyota with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s Betazoid,” she whispered, “but I don’t know what he’s saying.”

Spock did not have a chance to respond to her before Jim was ranting again. “No, this is stupid. We have no idea what those people are going through right now. We need to get in there as soon as possible. Right now. Instead we’re sitting out here arguing because you have all of these stupid ideas about what proper protocol is.”

“They are not ideas, they are explicitly-”

“This isn’t an explicit situation! Things like this can’t be dictated! We have to do what’s best for each individual problem, so that we can do the most we can to help. Waiting around to have Pike give us the go ahead isn’t going to save lives, it’s going to cost them.”

“The lad does have a point,” Mr. Scott agreed sheepishly. 

“Are you serious?!” Nyota piped in, “Where were your complaints earlier? This is how we’ve always done things. Suddenly Jim comes along and it’s not good enough for you?”

“Well...I jus’ hadn’ thought of things like tha’ before...” the Scotsman mumbled, eyes cast down to the ground beneath his boots. Spock turned to the remaining members of the team, silently imploring them to speak their minds.

“Oh, uh...I think both of you guys have valid opinions,” Sulu said quickly, committing to neither side with Pavel nodding along with him. Jim didn’t seem to take their indifference as a form of slight, he noticed, and wondered exactly how Kirk viewed the others as far as loyalty went. Spock had assumed that the traits would be as important to him as they were to most humans.

“Well _Commander_ ,” McCoy huffed, “I’m always for the plan that means I can save the most lives and right now that’s not yours.” 

Perhaps more than loyalty James Kirk valued honesty in his companions. If he were to reason as to why anyone would spend such a significant amount of time in the company of Dr. McCoy, that would certainly be a valid reason. What the doctor lacked in other agreeable traits, his honest nature did seem to tilt the scales back toward his favour. Spock had never had to speculate as to where he stood with the man. 

“So now what?!” Kirk asked, effectively voicing the question on everyone’s minds.

“If the practice of ‘majority rules’ is being upheld, I would say that we have settled on the plan which best follows GUARD protocol,” Spock decisively finishes, turning to walk back into the van with Uhura and work on the communication issue.

“Bullshit, Chekov and Sulu didn’t agree either way and I have two backers.” The look on Kirk’s face was determined and unyielding. Spock found himself playing back his final report on one James Tiberius Kirk, specifically the portion stating that the young man would not respond positively to order or instruction which would inevitably prove destructive and unhealthy for a group environment. He could not be lead.

“Then what is it you are suggesting?” Spock would not admit to his question being the thinly veiled threat that Jim believed it to be. 

“Maybe it would be more _efficient_ if we split up. I mean, obviously we can’t _all_ stay cooped up working on communications. Might as well let some of us stretch our legs.” Kirk didn’t wait for Spock to respond yes or no, instead hitching his pack up and heading toward the city with confident strides. 

“Dammit,” the doctor whined before he followed. His reluctance contrasted with is former endorsement of Kirk’s idea. This, however, Spock was becoming accustomed to. Leonard McCoy had his own particular brand of illogic that he used to dictate his actions. The combination of it with James Kirk’s will was a rather unsettling thing to venture in. 

“Do you think it’s a good idea, letting them go off on their own like that?” Sulu inquired. His hinting at assignment on the divergent campaign went unnoticed by the Commander. The subtle nuances of Standard that came from emotional inflection were often lost on Vulcans, who too often interpreted speech in it’s most literal of definition. 

“I disagree with Mr. Kirk’s actions but find I cannot prevent him from going through with even his most ill-advised of tactics.”

“They seem ta ‘ave gotten ‘im this far,” Mr. Scott commented.

“Yes. Am I to assume you would like to accompany him on this fruitless endeavor?” he asked, eyebrow raised in a silent challenge. Lieutenant Sulu dropped his head into his open palm, some Terran gesture whose meaning eluded Spock. 

“Aye, I just think I might,” the engineer nodded, sparing no other parting words as he raced to catch up with Jim and the doctor. 

“Forget them,” Nyota consoled, already working diligently at her station, “I’m sure they won’t make it far before we’ve contacted base and have cleared to begin scouting.” 

“I would not be so sure. The interference I’m seeing already looks to be a large enough obstruction to prove a great hinderance.” 

 

* * *

 

Normally Jim would be absolutely fuming with unchecked rage after an argument like that, but oddly he found himself with an almost zen-like feeling of tranquility. Bones was saying something as he and Scotty followed his winding path into the city, but it had all faded into the distance like radio static. It wasn’t until they were silently creeping their way between buildings that Jim’s brain caught up with him enough to at least check the status of his teammates. 

“What are you armed with?” he asked in a low whisper, no preamble. 

“What? I’m a doctor not a mercenary, I’ve got a standard shotgun and a blade same as everyone else.”

He furrowed his brow, not remembering the part where he was told that all members of GUARD get absolutely shit weapons. That didn’t seem like a helpful strategy, especially when different weapons handled by different fighters lead to increased success. Assuming that the person wielding the weapon knew what they were doing, of course. Sulu, for example, had swordplay down like none other. It was a useful skill. 

“Scotty?”

“Don’t ken what ye were expectin’,” the man shrugged, swinging his gun into his hands from its former position at his back.

“Well my apologies, it’s just shotguns aren’t exactly the best weapons to use when the goal is discretion,” Jim replied, rolling his eyes and dropping down on one knee to retrieve a weapon from his pack.

“ _Well_ discretion’s ne’r been th’ goal now, has it?” Scotty hissed, and damn if Pike hadn’t managed to find the snarkiest people for the job and put them all on the same team Jim would chug a bottle of Romulan ale. 

“There’s always a time to try new things, men,” he smirked, pulling out and quickly assembling his collapsable cross-bow. 

“You just carry that around with you,” McCoy dead-panned, finally swinging his own shotgun around as if he finally had to admit to himself that this was actually happening. 

“Yup, just like you carry that tricorder,” Jim grinned at his friend unashamedly as he took the lead once more, skirting around the structures of Oklahoma City with ninja-like stealth and an ear poised for any sound be it friend or foe. Smartly, Leonard and Scotty let him pick off any undead they ran into in their hunt for anyone in this place who had managed to remain alive. It was so silent, Jim was having trouble holding onto the optimism that they would eventually find someone who had held out. 

“Jimbo, 3 o’clock,” McCoy murmured, giving him a gentle nudge in the shoulder with the barrel of his gun. Before he could reprimand Bones for calling him ‘Jimbo’ of all things, his eyes locked onto a flutter of purple hiding behind a waste receptacle. Without a word he passed his weapon over to the doctor, still armed with the machete on his hip, and made his way over to where he suspected a child was hiding. Jim did not attempt to make his passing overly discreet; the kid was probably scared enough as it was without him popping out of nowhere. 

“Hey,” he said softly once he was close enough to see the trembling of the child’s limbs. Jim did his best to ignore the impressions of cold desperation that his mind queued up for recall. At his voice, though, the child stilled. Now it was time for that inevitable fight-or-flight response, something he knew all too well. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he assured, “I’m here to help.”

Finally a head poked itself out from around the trash bin, brown eyes searching his person for something that would validate his claim. Whatever it was the kid had been looking for, they must have found it because moments later a young girl stood up and walked hesitantly forward to meet him. Jim smiled, wanting to be able to put the little girl at ease. He could read the tension in her jaw and in her stance like a blind man reading braille. 

“My name’s Jim,” he introduced himself, kneeling down to eye-level with his new acquaintance, “what’s your name?” 

After a few moments hesitation she opened her mouth, coughed at her first attempt at speech and then tried again. “Susan.” Her voice was hoarse from disuse, making him wonder how long she had been alone. Susan didn’t look like she could be older than seven. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Susan. If it’s okay with you, I have some friends across the street and even more on the outskirts of town. We want to try to make this place safe again and need your help. Do you want to meet them?” he asked, not wanting to overwhelm the poor girl. No matter what her answer, it didn’t change the fact that they needed to get her out of the city as soon as possible...but if he could, Jim wanted to do it on her terms.

“My help?” she asked, confusion overtaking her expression and tone. 

“Yeah, of course! We’re not from here and only just arrived. We need someone who knows where everything is and what’s been going on. I think you’re the perfect one for the job,” he said with an encouraging smile. 

“Well...I dunno...everyone hides from the monsters, so...we should probly hide too,” she concluded, starring up at him with fear so evident in her eyes that his mouth fell open slightly even as he barricaded a flood of assurances behind his tongue. There was no sense in offering platitudes when they’d all turned into lies. 

“Where does everyone else hide?” he asked, hoping that he was wrong about her being on her own.

“How am I supposed to know? They’re hiding. Sometimes I see ‘em, but I’m s’posed to be hiding too so they don’t see me.”

“Have you ever thought about hiding together?”

“Uhm...I used to hide with my mama and brother but they’re gone now,” she admitted quietly, head lowered in an intense examination of the cracks in the sidewalk.

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” It came out of nowhere, but the urge to embrace the poor girl wasn’t one that Jim could resist. She clung to him tightly, tears wetting his shoulder. If she noticed him pick her up and begin walking back to the alley he came from, she showed no signs. 

“Well hello there, little lassie,” Scotty greeted, either unaware of or ignoring Susan’s obvious distress. If she hadn’t been paying attention to the world around her before she definitely was now, looking up from Jim’s shoulder in alarm at the Scottish man who had addressed her.

“That’s my friend,” Jim whispered with a conspiratorial air, “his name is Montgomery Scott and he hates it when people call him Monty, which is why his nickname is Scotty. So if you wanna tease him that’s the way to go.”

Susan nodded solemnly at the revelation before turning to asses the doctor. “Who’s that?” she asked, her whisper not quite discreet enough. Luckily the others were polite and didn’t act as if they had heard a word.

“That’s Dr. Leonard McCoy. If you feel sick or are hurt anywhere, he’s the one to talk to. His nickname is Bones, and he doesn’t like it when I tell other people.”

“Why not?”

“He thinks it’s a silly nickname.”

“It is a silly nickname,” she chastised, poking him in the chest.

“That’s the point!” he countered, lowering her back onto her feet so that she could introduce herself properly to the others. Despite her initial shyness, Jim was getting a sense that she was really a firey little hellion...kind of like Gwen’s wife, Madeline. If that was the case, everyone had better watch out.

Susan introduced herself to her new companions, lovingly dubbed ‘Monty’ and ‘Bonesy’ respectively. Once it was confirmed that she did not know the locations of any other survivors, the set a course back toward the van to bring her to safety. This was always the most time consuming part, something Jim had willingly spent weeks doing to ensure everyone’s safety before the inevitable battle that would follow. 

“Bonesy, it’s getting dark,” Susan whined, tightening her hold on the doctor’s sleeve. He and Susan had become fast friends, Jim suspected due to the fact that Leonard had a daughter of his own around her age. 

“I know it. We should probably find somewhere to sit out the night,” he reassured,  turning sharply to face Jim and Scotty. His intent was anything but subtle. 

Contrary to whatever Spock might think, Jim took into account all known factors when he set out on a mission. He knew how many hours walk they were away from the van at all times, he kept an eye out for any available rations should they run out or find themselves with more mouths to feed. Most importantly, he triple checked the complex he had found for shelter from top to bottom before leading McCoy in with their charge.

“We’ll just stay here for the night, and in the morning you can meet the rest of our friends, okay?” Jim said as he tucked her into his own sleeping bag. It wouldn’t be the first night he’d gone without and it definitely wouldn’t be his last. He fell asleep leaning against the door, and dreamt of buzzards circling a desert sky and a snake curled, hissing, on his chest. 

He woke early in a cold sweat and with a crick in his neck. Despite any attempt at  quietly preparing to leave, McCoy surged awake and immediately started to eye him suspiciously. 

“What?!” he asked, slightly bewildered at the hostility that seemed to come out of nowhere. Really at this point it shouldn’t surprise him, but the man had _just_ woken up. How could he have managed to piss him off this early in the morning.

“I’ve been up half the night with your wailing, that’s what. Ya gotta do something about those nightmares, Jim.”

“Believe me, if I knew how to get rid of them they would be long gone by now,” he grumbled. The subject had a way of making him an unfortunate mix of paranoid and irritated. It was a sore subject and he didn’t want to reveal anything too personal. It was a relief when their conversation was interrupted by Susan yawning, undoubtably awoken by the noise that they were making. 

“Mornin’ sunshine,” Leonard said, all charm when it came to the little girl. Jim mocked him silently with his back turned, still in a mood. 

“Morning Bonsey!” she replied with enthusiasm, awfully loud.

Jim quickly shushed her and listened hard. They had all been so careless and loud upon waking that he had failed to ascertain if they were still safe. Any unintentional noises in the night may have given away their position. For all he knew they could be surrounded. 

“What’s that scratching noise?” Susan asked, voice thick with tears as she nudged Scotty awake. 

“I don’t know, hunny,” Jim lied, edging toward the window while holding the poor girls gaze. This was bad, very very bad. A quick glance, as discreet as possible, revealed that the worst had happened. They were surrounded by a horde of zombies, saved from the loud chorus of their moans simply by the fact that none of them had yet to lay eyes on their prey. 

Jim had an unfortunate amount of practice in trying to play off terrible things with false hope and cheer. He didn’t let the panic show on his face. If not for Susan, he felt that they would probably survive this. With a defenseless child to protect, though, their chances dropped significantly. Still, he was James Tiberius Kirk and he did not believe in no-win scenarios. 

“Alright,” he began, taking confident strides toward his pack and pulling out a crowbar and his black market phaser, “me and Monty here are going to take a little walk-” he jammed the crowbar into the wall and over the doorknob as a tertiary defense, “-and you and Bonsey are going to have a nice breakfast. Did you know that Dr. McCoy is from Georgia? He knows all kinds of really ancient Southern folk songs and he’s gonna sing some to you, okay?”

“There’s monsters outside, isn’t there,” Susan frowned, not one easily fooled.

“Yeah, there is, but we’re gonna do our best to get out of here. Nothing’s gonna hurt you without having to go through me first, got it?” He wished so bad that he could promise her survival, but the last thing he was willing to do was lie to her. She deserved more than that. She gave him a stiff nod of understanding, and Jim no longer hesitated to jump out of the window. Scotty followed with the ease of someone who had trained long and hard to be able to react as swiftly as possible. The loud moans began almost immediately, and Jim heard the moment Bones understood why he had told Susan that they would be singing.

_Down in the valley, valley so low_

_Hang your head over, hear the wind blow_

They ran down the fire escape, boots clanking against the aged metal. Jim didn’t hesitate to begin his barrage of phaser fire, though he knew in his heart that the charge wouldn’t last the battle. Scotty had his shotgun, extra ammo at his belt. The look they shared was morose, knowledge that their ammunition was woefully limited. This was supposed to be a simple mission to find survivors, not an all out battle. No one had prepared for this. The noise of gunfire reached the air.

_Hear the wind blow, dear, hear the wind blow_

_Hang your head over, hear the wind blow_

There was only so much they could do from a single vantage point when they were sure that the entire block was en massed with infected creatures. Scotty was quickly depleting his ammo and Jim’s charge was beginning to look just as bleak. While the Lieutenant Commander paused to reload, Jim made an aborted gesture before dashing back up the fire escape and eventually to the roof.

“I’m going to look for an escape route!” he called out, not pausing as he ran toward the opposite edge. There was never a moment he wasn’t grateful for the zombie’s inability to climb. 

The situation on the opposite end was just as dire, and Jim saw no easy way of escape. Jumping over the roofs of buildings was usually an option, but not with a small little girl. He began firing at them once again, trying to keep productive while he tried to come up with a plan. 

_If you don’t love me, love whom you please_

_Throw your arms round me, give my heart ease_

_Give my heart ease, dear, give my heart ease_

_Throw your arms round me, give my heart ease_

Eventually the gunfire ceased. Jim cursed under his breath and the new wave of desperation that washed over him brought with it an unexpected plan. He was not, under any circumstances barring torture and imminent death, going to ever thank Commander Spock for forcing him to run through all of those pointless simms. Regardless, it had been his brilliant plan anyway so he had no intention of giving the other man credit as he raced back down to the apartment, dove through the window and quickly made out with his pack. McCoy and Susan didn’t even have time to acknowledge his presence.

_Hear the wind blow, dear, hear the wind blow_

_Hang your head over, hear the wind blow_

“What’re ya doin? Didnae happen ta get any more ammo when ye were in there, did ye?” Scotty asked as Jim nearly spilled the contents of his bag in his haste to get out his crossbow and locate his lighter.

“I was in a bit of a hurry, Scotty,” he said through clenched teeth as he pulled his shirt taut and cut it into pieces with his machete. Thankfully the Scotsman didn’t continue complaining, as at this point he had caught on to Jim’s intentions. 

“Lad, I know th’ simms are one thing, but there’s no guarantee we can control the fire once ye start one.”

“Needs must. I don’t see any other options,” Jim replied, features screaming defeat even when giving up was his last intention.

“Aye, naething venture, naething have.” Scotty gave Jim’s shoulder a squeeze before picking up the discarded phaser and continued the assault as Jim raced back up to the roof to begin setting the area aflame. 

_Write me a letter, send it by mail_

_Send it in care of Birmingham Jail_

_Birmingham Jail, dear, Birmingham Jail_

_Send it in care of Birmingham Jail_

The addition of fire increased their progress by vast margins. Zombies both near the building and in the distance were collapsing under the fire, which was the intended effect. Unfortunately there were also drawbacks that were coming quickly to bite them in the ass. The smoke was rising and they needed to get away from here as fast as possible; Jim was almost positive that the building had caught on fire. 

With a wordless signal Jim cued Scotty to follow him back into the apartment. It wasn’t smokey in there yet, no indication of the impending inferno. This was good, it meant they had time. The scratching had stopped at the door, though, and Jim didn’t know how to take that.

_Build me a castle forty feet high_

_So I can see her as she rides by_

_As she rides by, dear, as she rides by_

_So I can see her as she rides by_

Jim took off his shirt and proceeded to finish completely tearing it to bits in order to provide them all with bandanas to breath through. For once he was glad to have been wearing a plain t-shirt underneath his regular clothes - there was just something off-putting about being shirtless around a small girl.

“Susan I’m going to need you to be very brave for me, okay? We’re going to go outside and there’s fire and monsters but I know you can do it,” Jim said, squeezing the terrified child’s hands as he tried to comfort her. 

“O-okay,” she stuttered, valiantly keeping her tears at bay. McCoy handed off his shotgun to Scotty and proceeded to pick her up. They were as ready as they’d ever be when Jim forced the crowbar out of the wall and backed away before kicking down the door with all the force he could muster. 

_Hear the wind blow, dear, hear the wind blow_

_Hang your head over, hear the wind blow_

They paid no attention to the zombie they had incapacitated, there was no time and the building was going to go down anyway. Scotty lead point, exterminating any lingering creatures as they ran to the stairs and descended into a haze of smoke.

“Keep your eyes shut, Susie,” McCoy urged, holding onto the girl tightly as if she were his own child having to face this hell. 

It wasn’t long before they reached the ground floor and the fire that was consuming it. Instead of wandering into the burning mess, Jim punched through the window in the stairwell and hoisted Scotty out to ensure that it was safe for Bones and Susan to follow.

“She’s all clear,” he called, after the sound of his gunfire had dissipated from the air. Jim took the child out of Leonard’s hands to allow the doctor to get through the window as safely as was possible before he handed her back over. Shards of broken glass were littered everywhere and they were not about to allow her to climb over on her own. It really was a testament to the direness of their situation that not a word was said from McCoy about the blood dripping out of Jim’s hand and arm, wound full of glass. There was no time to worry about him when all of their lives were at stake.

_Roses love sunshine, violets love dew_

_Angels in heaven know I love you_

_Know I love you, dear, know I love you_

_Angels in heaven know I love you_

Their world was something out of a nightmare. The smoke had permeated the area so thoroughly that it seemed to block out the sun. There were trails of fires everywhere, mixed with burning corpses and those still mobile and trying their damnedest to overtake them. Susan was doing her best not to cough, but McCoy could tell that the girl was inhaling too much smoke even with the bandana. Jim and Scotty were doing their best to fell each creature that came upon them while navigating through the flames, but the bloodbath seemed unending.    

Both Jim and Scotty were on the receiving end of a multitude of burns in their efforts to power through the horde that had accumulated. Jim was having trouble trying to catch his breath through the smoke, and his allergies were making a bid to see if they could close his throat up entirely.

“Bones,” he coughed, hunched over with his hands on his knees and his machete still poised for an oncoming assault, “need...hypo...” 

The wound on his arm had been more or less forgotten, and his fight for oxygen had put the pain of his burns to the back of his mind. The doctor raced up to him, trying to sling his pack off of his shoulder without jostling Susan but failing exceedingly.

“Dammit, Jim,” he complained with unmistakable worry in his voice as he was forced to sit Susan down in favour of digging in his bag for the right hypo. It only took a few moments and he was soon plunging the hypo into Jim’s neck, causing the man to emit an undignified coughing squeal. Just as McCoy released the medicine they heard an ear piercing scream. Scotty turned in alarm from his previous post killing zombies at the front line in time to see, just as Jim and Leonard did, the zombie that had grabbed onto Susan dragging her away and through a wall of fire.

The scream that found it’s way out of Jim’s lips would haunt both Scotty and McCoy for weeks after the fact. He lurched forward and into a run, not caring as he knocked the doctor over in the process, following the creature directly through blaze. Jim decapitated the zombie without a second thought before dropping to his knees next to Susan. She was burnt badly, as he assumed himself to be, her hair somehow having survived the flames. 

“C’mon, c’mon,” he pleaded, feeling for a pulse and panicking as her chest made no movement and he found none. He frantically began chest compressions, unable to believe that this was his reality.

_She had been so tiny, so fragile. He had done everything he could, given her his share of the food that they gathered, made sure that she always was warm. Tears streamed down JT’s face as he clawed at the dirt, his heartbeat and choked sobs a dirge as he dug the hole as deep as he could. Niri had only been two years old. She looked like an angel, like she was only sleeping._

“Jim! Stop, it’s too late!”

_Iowa City was crawling with the vermin and Gwen had told him that they had gotten everyone out that they could find. They had barely found a soul in comparison to the bodies he encountered in the chaos. People panic, people run. If he believed that survivors had the sense to stay where they were hidden during a great battle, it wouldn’t be his top priority to evacuate them. He had tried to grab the little boy, had seen the zombie lurching behind him. The child hadn’t known, had panicked and backed away from his arms and right into those of the undead creature behind him. Seconds pounded like drumbeats in his skull as he tried to save him. He failed._

“Jim! Jim can you hear me, stop!” 

He blinked as McCoy shoved him away from Susan’s body. Wiping a stray tear off of his face, Jim took in his surroundings the figures in the shadows and the inferno surrounding them, trying to ground himself in the present. Shakily he got to his feet, fingernails digging into his hand as he gripped his knife harder.

“We have tae get outta here!” Scotty shouted. They were becoming boxed in. With something resembling a growl, Jim moved stiffly forward, refusing to turn back and see the corpse of the small girl he had promised himself he’d save.

“Jim, ya need to think straight, you’re compromised,” Leonard shouted, following him as he marched unseeingly forward, blind rage beginning to overtake him.

“I don’t care,” he snarled, before running ahead with his machete held high. After everything he had been through, Jim felt he deserved some vengeance. The universe owed him retribution. 

_Bird in a cage, love, bird in a cage_

_Dying for freedom, ever a slave_

_Ever a slave, dear, ever a slave_

_Dying for freedom, ever a slave_

 

* * *

 

Reestablishing communications had failed. After hours of attempting this came to be a truth that Spock could no longer deny, and it was with great discontent that he lead what remained of his team into the city to scout out an ideal base location. The rest of their first day had been spent in this manner, eventually leaving them forced to stay the night in a deserted office complex. They woke before dawn to continue their search. 

“Do you zhink zee ozhers are doing okay?” Pavel whispered to Hikaru. The area was so steeped in silence that Spock could hear the question even without having to rely on his superior Vulcan hearing.

“I’m sure they’re fine. They probably just went really far into the city and couldn’t get back before nightfall,” Sulu assured his friend. It did not bode well, though, that they had yet to see any sign of their teammates’ passing. Uhura had accepted the fact that Jim was good, but he wasn’t _that_ good. 

“What kind of structure is this?” Spock inquired when they reached a large building surrounded by a now broken chain-link fence. 

“I think it’s an orphanage,” Nyota replied, taking an unconscious step forward, “They would have facilities to care for hundreds of children.” The building was enormous and, upon a more thorough inspection, had a multitude of out buildings. 

“Then I believe we have found an appropriate place to establish our initial base,” Spock said, turning to confirm his assessment with the others who nodded. 

“Do you think Jim and them found any survivors?” Sulu asked, leaning up against the fence and looking around. Nyota grimaced, undoubtably displeased with the identification ‘Jim and them’ for the secondary group.

“There is a 76.948% chance that they have located any surviving citizens,” Spock answered as he lead them into the orphanage so that they could inspect the premise.

As was the case with most of the cities they ventured to, no one had seen to the disposal of all of the dead. With no family to survive them it shouldn’t have been such a shock, the number of bodies that were scattered throughout the main building. Watching the others doing their best to circumvent their emotional responses to the tragedy, Spock was forced to admit to himself that he would never grow accustomed to the abundance of death that was their daily lives. It was with great sorrow that the team began to gather the corpses, bringing them all into the street to form a funeral pyre.

“ Chto bylo, to proshlo i byl'yom poroslo,” Chekov muttered as the bodies went up in smoke. Despite the many times that Spock had heard the Russian speak this phrase, he still had yet to find out it’s meaning. Never did it seem appropriate to ask. 

The most macabre part of their duty completed, they went back inside to continue their survey of the orphanage. They broke off into groups of two, Sulu and Chekov comprising one group while he and Uhura made up the other. It had been 27.74 minutes since their cremation of the bodies and he and Nyota were in the east wing. All seemed fine with the facilities, shaping up to make an acceptable start of a Sanctuary. It was as this thought passed through Spock’s head that Nyota spoke up.

“Spock...isn’t it a bit too smokey outside?” she asked, body pressed up against the window she was peering out of. Indeed, the level of smoke in the air was much higher than that which could be expected from their pyre, especially this long after it had begun to burn. 

“We should locate the others and assess the situation,” Spock determined, making quick strides toward the other end of the building. It was not long before he heard the sound of running footsteps reverberating through the stained wood floor of the older building. 

“Commander, vee beliwe zhere is a fire spreading towards us!” Chekov shouted as soon as they came into view.

“Indeed. We must see if it can be stopped.” 

In only moments they were out the door, greeted by the smog that was quickly saturating the air. Each inhalation caused Spock’s lungs to burn, so he made an effort not to breath. Pavel began coughing in fits before pulling his shirt up to cover half his face. 

“Guys, grab a spare shirt out of your packs, we can do what he’s doing only with more movement,” Sulu said, quickly gathering an extra shirt for both the Ensign and himself. Spock and Nyota followed suit, and they were soon racing through the streets in search of what started this fire. They didn’t get far, as it seemed that the chaos was determined to come to them. Groaning undead shuffled toward them. 

“How did this happen?!” Nyota exclaimed. Her horror was apparent through her eyes alone. 

The answer came to them soon enough as Montgomery Scott sprinted up to them, coming to an abrupt halt, breathless with a section of ripped fabric tied around his face. He held an empty shotgun that appeared to have been used as a bludgeon, and had suffered minor burns.

“Have ye seen Jim?!” the man asked, panicked and coughing in between words.

“No, what’s going on?!” Uhura’s concern seemed to only increase. 

“Lad’s gone off on a tirade, I fear. If we dunnae find ‘im...” Mr. Scott trailed off, taking deep breaths and inspecting his surroundings with the look of a pure terror on his face that Spock had never seen on the engineer. He did not understand - there had been greater disasters than this. Before he could inquire any further, there was a loud crash from somewhere to his right. 

“On second thought, run!” 

The others followed Montgomery without question, back toward the orphanage. Spock, however, was more interested in the bedlam that threatened to overtake them. He wished to know what had caused such fear in the Scotsman. So instead of following his team, he split off and headed toward the site of the crash unsurprised that the fire and soot was spread to more than one street. It wasn’t long before he heard voices.

“Jim!” he could hear the doctor pleading, voice sounding weary as if the call had been unheeded for quite some time now. “We can’t fight ‘em, not now! We need to get back to the others, leave the city! If we’re lucky this’ll all die down in a few days-”

“It’s Iowa City all over again.” The words were biting, more harsh than Spock had ever heard Kirk speak even in the midst of anger. 

“What are ya talkin’ about? Iowa City is clear, you won!” Dr. McCoy tried to assure him, almost pleading. Emerging from the narrow one-way street he had been cutting through, Spock found Kirk and the doctor separated by nothing more than a hovercar, hood open and Kirk’s hands deep inside it’s bowels. Whatever he was trying to accomplish, he was doing so without the aid of sight as his gaze did not waver from Leonard McCoy and their apparent stalemate. 

“At what cost?!!” Kirk shouted, “Nothing was saved, everything that mattered went up in smoke!”

“It seemed perfectly habitable to me, the tricorder didn’t-”

“It’s one giant grave, Bones. No one wants to live in a mausoleum.” 

As enlightening as their conversation was on the inner-workings of James Kirk’s mind, Spock no longer had time to spare. He walked up to them swiftly, clearly making his presence known as he gauged the other’s reactions. McCoy seemed relieved while Kirk seemed prone to flee, hands abandoning their work as the man backed up and into another vehicle. 

“We are surrounded. There is no time for this, we must go,” he ordered. For a moment Kirk looked ready to resist, but then surprised everyone when he stepped around the ‘car and began to lead the way out of the flaming mess. No longer worrying about whether they would be able to get the team out of the area, Spock began to catalogue the wounds sustained by the man in front of him. Judging by the sharp intake of breath from the doctor beside him, he was not the only one. Dr. McCoy wisely didn’t say anything...yet. It would take some time to get out of the city and until then they didn’t have the luxury of stopping to tend to wounds. Plus, based on the dexterity in which he handled any of the zombies that crossed their paths, James Kirk was in fine shape.

They were nearing the orphanage when it happened. 

“This route’s a dead end, the fire’s spread down the entire street,” Kirk panted, knuckles white with the intensity of his grip on the machete in his hand. 

“That is impossible. The rest of the team headed this way to defend the base,” Spock replied tersely, stepping around him as he wavered in the middle of the street. 

“Either they’re dead or they were smart enough to get to the damn van.” 

He may not respect him, but Spock did not doubt Kirk’s intelligence on the matter. When asked later he would not admit to the panic that gripped him as he sprinted down the road to the orphanage. Windows were broken, the dry lawn in front of the building sporting small tufts of flame. Though he did not see any of the infected Spock was wise to not dismiss their presence; it was something he could taste in the air, an extra presence that weighed on his being. 

“Bones! Run!”

Spock was knocked out of his trance by the sound of Kirk’s yelling. There was no more he could do here, only rely on the 83.91% chance that the team had made it out of this trap and safely to the van outside the city. He headed back with the same urgency that had held him when he left, nearly passing the doctor in his haste. 

“They’ve overtaken, Spock! Ya gotta help Jim, there’s nothin’ I could do,” McCoy pleaded, so unaware in his panic that he had actually gripped Spock’s shoulders. 

“I will do my best, doctor,” was his reply, taking the time to make a pointed look at the hands that were still clutching him. Dr. McCoy sputtered as he quickly pulled his arms back, acting as if the touch had burnt him. Most illogical. Spock trusted him to find safety as he went back for Kirk. The situation was far from ideal.

It appeared as though a hovercar had exploded, in addition to the exceedingly high number of zombies that had accumulated in his short absence. Kirk was in the middle of the fray, cutting off more limbs than he was heads. Spock rushed toward him, pulling his KaBar combat knife from it’s place at his side. Not expecting a battle, he had failed to prepare adequately. The simple blade was, however, enough to fight his way toward Kirk.

He screamed as he fell, and for a moment Spock could have sworn he heard Jim’s heart pounding in his head - beat so much slower than a Vulcan’s yet much too fast for a human’s. There wasn’t a moment to ponder, though, as he slashed through the remaining infected blocking his way and wrenched Kirk out of the meager grips of the zombies trying to drag him away. All the other man could do was stare up at him with wide eyes and obviously in shock. Luckily Vulcan strength was much greater than a humans, as Spock was forced to carry him as they quickly fled the area.

* * *

 

Nearly two weeks passed. 

It took Uhura three days to get the communication systems up and running, and that was only after she had had adequate rest. McCoy did his best to work through his own injuries and exhaustion in order to help his fellow teammates, but it did make for a very irritable doctor. With each day he became slightly less of a pain to have around. Sulu and Chekov kept themselves useful, making sure that they had food, water, and other supplies. They were the only ones to venture near the city and each report back was as inconclusive as the last. Scotty busied himself improving their weapons, doing things that Jim was sure made Spock nervous even if Vulcans do no feel nervousness. The Commander seemed to be the same as ever, not that he would really know.

Jim had sustained the worst injuries. The doctor did what he could with the dermal regenerator, but eventually had to resort to using stitches. He said that once the stitches come out there was a chance that the dermal regenerator could remove the scars, but Jim wasn’t that interested. He had plenty of scars already, what’s a few more? Despite all Dr. McCoy did to clean it, the wound in his arm became infected. Three fevered days later and he was finally out of the woods. A few more days of rest and he would be granted light duty, nothing that could cause him to tear his stitches. 

In the time that he had been bedridden in one of the tents, everyone made the time to visit save for Spock. McCoy’s constant presence was a given, Scotty being the second most frequent visitor. They talked about nothing and did their best to sneak around; booze, mechanics, anything the good doctor wouldn’t approve of. His banishment was threatened often and soon Jim’s blood alcohol content was checked every time Scotty so much as came near him. 

Sulu and Chekov made regular visits as well, taking care in keeping him up to date on everything going on. Scotty wasn’t really good for that, what with all of his hermiting away with his tools. Similar to Scotty though, they both had plenty of stories to tell about past adventures. Jim preferred to listen to the tales instead of recounting his own, but he allowed himself a few relatively impersonal accounts of both good times and bad. If they noticed his reluctance to open up, they said nothing.

Uhura was an enigma in herself. He wouldn’t see her for days and then she’d come in, usually frazzled, and tell him about the strangest things. On day three of his sick leave, she popped in and asked him what he knew that the others didn’t about quantum mechanics - a question that he didn’t know how to answer since he had never discussed that topic with any of his teammates. On day five she held a conversation with him in Andorian about literature. Day eight saw Uhura telling him a multitude of riddles, which he was all but positive she was secretly grading him on how quickly it took him to figure out the answer. The last he had seen her was day ten, when she sang a song to him in Swahili that sounded beautiful even though he didn’t understand it. At least that’s what he thought happened, he had been pretty fevered and delirious at the time. He’d have to ask her next time he saw her, whenever _that_ was going to be. 

It was now day twelve, and at precisely 0734 Spock ducked into the tent. Jim knows this for a fact, since it was the first thing he’d asked the Commander when he was forced to wake up way too early. 

“What’s going on?” he asked, rubbing his sleep-filled eyes.

“Nothing of import has occurred, it is simply time for you to be debriefed. I trust that you have had sufficient time to recover?”

“He ain’t leavin’ this tent for another two days at least,” McCoy countered, furious and scowling, “as soon as he’s out of here he’ll be gettin’ up to who knows what and I’m not risking it.” Jim didn’t know when the doctor had grown so fond of him, and by ‘fond’ he was extrapolating from the hovering hypo-stabbing worried mother-henning that seemed to always go on when they were in each other’s presence.

“Aww Bones, I didn’t know you cared,” he said, putting his hand over his heart and trying not to laugh at the no-nonsense expression Leonard was trying to maintain. It didn’t take long for him to roll his eyes and let out a small chuckle before walking away to check on...something, Jim hadn’t really had a chance to check out what machines he had back there. 

“As I was saying-”

Attention back on Spock, he was able to remember what was actually going on. “Wait, debriefing?! What fucking debriefing? It’s been almost two weeks since that mess!”

“I was under the impression that humans appreciated time to heal before participating in a lengthy interview.”

Jim clenched his fists and tried to calm himself down. There wasn’t anything he could say to get Spock _not_ to do everything by the fucking books, so he might as well get this over with. “Fine.”

“I have already conducted the debriefings with the remaining members of the team during your recovery time. I will be using the same standard questions that I asked them. Firstly, please describe the situation before you arrived.”

“The survivors were in hiding from the mass infestation,” he answered, succinct. Hopefully Spock wouldn’t draw this out.

“Now describe the actions you took.”

“Seriously? You know what actions I took!”

“Mr. Kirk, if you could please cooperate.”

“I’ll cooperate if you stop calling me Mr. Kirk,” he shot back.

“What would you have me call you?” was Spock’s icy response. 

“Just call me Jim like everyone else.” 

“Very well, _Jim_ , please describe the actions you took.”

“We located a survivor, it was too late to travel so we-”

“Why was it too late for you to proceed back to camp?”

Jim bristled at the interruption but continued his attempt at cooperation. “The survivor we found was a small child and traveling with her at night was unsafe. So we found a safe place to stay the night-”

“What qualified the location as safe?”

“It was elevated, out of reach of potential infected, and a thorough check found it to be vacant of both survivors or infected. We stayed the night and when we woke up we were surrounded. Actions were taken to escape the situation. Sus-...the child was a casualty. I failed.” There was a fire in his eyes as he stared back at Spock, daring him to say anything.

“Would you define yourself as the leader in this situation?” he asked, smartly not rising to Jim’s challenge.  

“I don’t know, I guess yeah.”

“Do you believe you performed admirably in this position?”

“I did my best.” That was all Jim could really say. 

“How would you rate your team’s capacity in their following of your instruction?”

“They did great,” he replied, turning to smile back at McCoy. 

“Can you identify and describe any unique or unusual situations encountered and how they were handled?”

“The whole bit where we were closed in by a horde of zombies was pretty unique and unusual,” Jim said with a roll of his eyes - this whole thing really was pointless, “We did our best to handle it, leaving Susan with Bones at first before eventually trying to escape.”

“Explain what you did in more detail.”

“We tried ammunition, and when that failed we used fire. What’s more to say?” 

“Were there any deviations from the standard operating procedures of GUARD during this encounter?”

At this Jim finally surged up onto his feet, despite the doctor’s shout. “I don’t know, _Commander,_ you tell me.”

“I am sure you’re well aware that the entire endeavor went against all standard practices,” he replied, eyebrow creeping toward his forehead. Jim just wanted to rip them off of his face. “How would you describe the time management and distribution of work?”

“Perfect.”

“Were there any conflicts between teammates or differences in expectations?”

“Not in _my_ team.” McCoy was standing next to them now, looking ready to break up a fight at any moment.

“Did you encounter any maintenance discrepancies or safety problems?”

“Shotguns are not an all inclusive weapon.”

“I shall keep that in mind. We do not all have the resources to obtain illegal weaponry.”

“Illegal? There’s no law anymore, Spock, in case you weren’t aware.”

“Do you have any recommendations for changes in planning, procedure, training, or equipment as a result of this incident?”

“I’ll send you a list.”

“I shall await it with bated breath. I believe that concludes our debriefing. Your performance will be evaluated. If you were expecting a promotion, I would ask you to evaluate the adequacy in which you performed the task that you assigned yourself.”

“Was that not _adequate_ enough for you, _Commander_?!” Jim seethed. The only thing stopping him from punching the other man in the face was the knowledge that Vulcans possess three times the strength of humans and he was not going to repeat that mistake again.

“You fail to adhere to the mission parameters-”

“This is the end of the world, Spock!” Jim interrupted loudly, waving his arms as if to indicate the carnage of the world that surrounded them, “Who cares if I improvise?! I did my best out there, dammit, and I”m sorry that you can’t accept that because I’m not going to change.” 

“Do yo presume that you outrank me, Mr. Kirk?” Spock asked, an eyebrow twitching in irritation. If he had the opportunity, Kirk would have bet good money that the Vulcan was just itching to raise it.

“This isn’t Starfleet, Spock, hate to break it to you.”

“Then am I to assume your previous use of my rank was rhetorical?”

“Something like that,” Jim replied with a smirk.

“In that case, would you prefer that we all refer to you as _Captain_?!” For a second Jim was completely blown away; not only did Spock just use a form of sarcastic humour (inflectionless as it was), but he had managed to make the word ‘captain’ sound like a swearword so foul it would rarely make it out of a sailor’s mouth. Two can play this game.

“How ‘bout we save that for the bedroom,” he replied with a wink. This statement finally got Spock’s eyebrow to begin approaching his hairline. The passing seconds roared in their silence. “It’s a joke,” he finally said, rolling his eyes and turning away. He couldn’t fathom how Chris had convinced him to go along with this GUARD bullshit. Ignoring McCoy’s previous orders for him to stay resting in the tent, Jim stormed past Spock and out into the sunlight. 

“Jim?” he heard Chekov inquire from somewhere around the van. He only acknowledged with a nod of his head, walking swiftly into the van to remove his things. That was it, he was done with this and 100% sure that he would head back to Iowa...until his eyes met the Sanctuary list sitting on the dash. Always one to lean toward more rebellious behavior he snatched it, stuffing it into his pack before leaving the vehicle and heading toward the city where he could get transportation of his own. He had never doubted his ability to be a successful GUARD officer when he thought about the basics of it. In a way his whole life had lead him to this. It was all of the rules and stupidity attached to an organization that he just couldn’t stand. 

“Where the hell do ya think you’re going?!!” McCoy shouted as he caught up to him. Jim didn’t want to look over, to confirm the anger and disapproval...the disappointment on his friend’s face. 

“I’m not cut out for GUARD, Bones,” he answered, doing his best to keep the emotion out of his voice and expression. He hadn’t planned on it hurting this much to leave the others, he’d only known them for a little over a month. 

“Whadda ya mean? You’re a natural! If this is about that hobgoblin, he ain’t gonna do nothing. Pike wants ya here, we want ya here-”

“It’s not just about Spock, okay?” They walked in silence for a few moments before Bones spoke. 

“This is about Susan, isn’t it?” Jim didn’t answer. “I’m a doctor, Jim, I know how awful it feels to lose someone that you’re trying to save. It’s a fact of life though, that you can do your best and even if everything goes according to plan it still might not be enough. If you go in thinking you can save everyone you’ll end up stark ravin’ mad.”

At that Jim couldn’t help the snicker that burst out of his lips. He sobered quickly, though, mind unable to move past the topic at hand. “I never thought I could save everyone, Bones, but sometimes it feels like I do a lot more harm than good when I try to help anyone.” 

_Children dying of starvation instead of the quick death of execution._

_A slew of survivors burnt alive when all they tried to do was save them from infection._

“You can’t really believe that-” McCoy started, but Jim turned quickly to stop him with a hand on his chest.

“Do I look like I don’t believe it?” he asked, blue eyes revealing the lives of thousands weighing on his soul as he pushed his friend backwards. “Go back to the others, Bones. I’m better off alone.”

Jim didn’t allow time for any more protesting, creating as much distance as he could between the two of them. When he looked back, Leonard still hadn’t moved from where he left him. He could no longer make out the other man’s face, but he suspected if he could he would see pity there. James Tiberius Kirk wanted no man’s pity. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI! Thanks for your comments guys, it really means a lot! That was another ridiculously long chapter and I'm starting to wonder if they'll all be like that. I'm not used to my ideas taking so long to get out but hey, what can you do. And in case it's concerning you, Kirk and Spock will kiss and make up soon (metaphorically, at least, because when I said slow build I really really meant it so your patience is incredibly appreciated). As always let me know what you think, any suggestions and just anything!!


	5. Denver

_"What do I stand for? What do I stand for? Most nights I don't know..." - Some Nights, Fun._

 

There was calm and clarity to be found, alone in the expanse of Colorado’s infrastructure. Duty bound toward the mountains, a place thats terrain made it ideal for a temporary base camp as it would be much harder for zombies to cross, Jim finally could feel the heat of his rage ebbing away for the first time since he left GUARD behind on the outskirts of Oklahoma City. There was a pleasant chill to the fall air. HIs head was clear and he was ready.

All in all, it took him four days to assemble a camp suitable enough for him to house survivors - once he found them. There would be no more failures. It was with that goal in mind that he set out with the rising sun, slowly and cautiously inching his way into Denver.

The city, like those he had seen before it and undoubtedly many more to come, had been ravaged and ruined by the initial chaos that had consumed it. Not only had the initial infection been a terrible experience, but the government’s woefully unorganized response had caused just as much damage and nearly as many lives. The panic that had infected the populace even more so than the virus lead the rest. There was evidence of fires; people trying to burn away the diseased, or those they saw as potential threats. Looting was abundantly evident, mass hysteria at the thought of potential lack of resources...possible starvation. Jim understood the motivators all too well.

At the time most did not realize that they were careening over a great precipice of disorder and disaster. The war had left all of the world’s leaders vulnerable, lacking both the trust of their people and the resources to get them through this tragedy. It was the Resistant Forces that fell first - those who launched the satellite containing Virus #1724. With the governments overthrown and rapidly spreading infection, the countries were succumbed by anarchy and soon beyond what the Allied Forces deemed acceptable for aid. This is the decision that truly began the domino effect of Earth’s chances for survival.

Recent world war be damned, the citizens of the Allied countries were not content with their governments abandonment of largely half the planet even as they were failing to save their own peoples. Riots erupted, infection spread, and eventually society as they knew it collapsed at their feet. Of course, Jim had been in no position to prevent any of it. That was one of his biggest regrets.

The area around him awoke slowly. In addition to having been wrecked by humans and infected alike, the city had also become overgrown. Nature was always waiting in the wings, ready to take back what had been stolen. Even though Jim had yet to lay eyes on human life, plenty of insects and small animals bustled around him. The soothing sounds of wilderness in the heart of Denver created such a juxtaposition that he found himself dropping his guard, distracted by the surrealness of it all.

Not moments later, standing still with the cold reality of a guns barrel lodged in between his shoulder blades, Jim would internally berate himself for making such a rookie mistake. This was a world where true safety did not exist.

“Who are you and what are you doing?” his assailant asked. Based on voice he’d say it was a woman, obviously not one to be trifled with.

“Jim, it’s Jim,” he explained quickly, uncomfortable with the lack of escape possibilities this position provided him, “I’m just looking for survivors, just trying to help.”

The gun lifted and before he had a chance to make a break for it, he had been spun around to meet deep brown eyes heavy with suspicion. “And why would you wanna do that? You’re not from around here, I can tell,” she looked him up and down, gaze calculating, “don’t look military, not professional at all. What are you doing here?”

Her wariness and immediate distrust of new people and new situations had Jim enamored from the start. Tarsus had ingrained him with those same traits, and this was Earth’s Tarsus IV - markedly worse, even.

“I lead the establishment of a major camp encompassing nearly all of greater Des Moines in Iowa. After some...we’ll call it heavy suggestion, on the part of others, I decided ‘hey, why stop with just one state?’ and here I am. Promise, I’m really just trying to help. I started making a rudimentary camp outside the city, someplace safe for people to stay until Denver’s best base camp zones are completely cleared of infected,” he explained, never breaking eye contact. She still had her gun - a semi-automatic weapon from the 22nd century - pointed at his chest and he hadn’t even gotten her name. Where’s the justice in that?

“What makes you think you’re the answer to everyone’s prayers, Jimmy-boy?” she inquired further, finally dropping the weapon.

“I don’t. I’m just trying to do my best.” It was the most honest thing he could say; an accurate description of his life, if he thought about it. Not that he had time to dwell on introspective philosophical bullshit. He was finally making some progress.

“Alright Jim, I’ll give you a chance. Name’s Ramona. You could say I’m in charge around here.”

Jim sure didn’t doubt it, as he spent the rest of the day and then the next following the short haired brunette around Denver as she helped him gather up every survivor she knew of. Ramona had an intimate knowledge of each survivor’s location and when that knowledge ended she knew the best places to look for more. By the end of the second day they were both exhausted, yet confident that they had gathered everyone from the main vicinities. Crossfire was now one less thin Jim was worried about.

Over the course of their days spent together, he couldn’t say he learned a lot about Ramona. The way she seemed disinclined to reveal any personal information made him feel even closer to her. It was like looking in a mirror - a weird mirror that turned him into the opposite sex with opposite characteristics, but hey who needs details.

“What’s your game plan now?” she asked him as they sat on top of a questionably constructed shed, drinking coffee even as the sun dropped lower in the sky. The camp had sprung to life around them.

“Now we fight,” came his simple reply.

“I’d hardly call it a fight. Has much more in common with a slaughter.”

“Semantics,” he shrugged, taking a sip from his slowly cooling mug. It went without saying that Jim wanted her with him in this coming battle, along with whoever else were able and willing. Ramona, in a way, reminded him of Gwyneth, but still. They were both similar enough to him to connect and mesh, yet different enough to bring new insight into situations. It grounded him, and Jim needed that. When Gwyneth had left for Starfleet he had spiraled out of control, at one point almost dying from alcohol poisoning. Then Jadiel was born and her and Mads needed a full time nanny in San Francisco. It wasn’t even a question.

“So should we get on with it?”

Her voice snapped him out of his reverie and he jerked back, spilling coffee all down the front of him. “Shit!”

Ramona looked shocked, looking back and forth between Jim and the ground beneath them. It was a big enough drop and he had almost fallen off the shed.

“Fuck! Wow, okay yeah let’s get going. Gather up the troops,” Jim said, beginning to climb down the shed. His mug was left, forgotten, but joined quickly by Ramona’s - there was more to think of than things as trivial as dishes.

A meeting was called, everyone assembled to hear Jim’s plan. Volunteers were abundant and they planned to head into the city the next day. It was only fair to give them a day to prepare to fight. Memories of Oklahoma City flashed behind his eyelids and his fists clenched almost of their own will. This wasn’t going to be like that. Jim repeated the mantra over and over in his head as he sat in his tent at the far end of the camp, methodically taking apart and cleaning his weapons. Tension clung to his skin, burning into his very core.

 

* * *

 

The van skidded to a halt 5 miles outside of Denver, Colorado kicking up gravel on the side of the interstate. Leonard McCoy was the first to emerge, snarling as he fixed his black leather jacket and squinted at the desolate city looming before them, a harsh reality in the bright Colorado sunlight. They had come from San Francisco after the fiasco that was the aftermath of Oklahoma City. Spock had insisted that they return to the Academy to recuperate and for once no one complained about the additional travel time. Additionally, though the Commander had an eidetic memory and did not need the physical copy, their general mission destination briefing had went missing. It had been logical to procure a new copy while in San Francisco to assist his fellow teammates who did not have his advanced memory capabilities.

“What’s the plan, here?” Doctor McCoy asked once everyone had exited the vehicle.

“Scouting, I’d imaging,” Sulu responded, already loading up a pack.

“Indeed, the most prudent course would be to do basic reconnaissance in small groups. Sulu and I will scout in one group, Scott and Chekov in another. You and Uhura shall remain here, that way if your medical assistance is needed Nyota can direct you to the appropriate coordinates.” Spocks pace, of course, was already prepared and strapped to his back. Leonard didn’t know how the Vulcan had managed it in such a short period of time or in such cramped quarters, but by now he knew better than to ask.

“Sounds fine by me.”

“They should be fine. It’s a routine mission. Nothing like last time,” Nyota commented as they watched to two scouting groups slowly disappear from view. Even though the doctor would never admit it, Nyota knew that he worried. Especially after Oklahoma City...there was something haunting him.

 

* * *

 

The streets were swarmed with the infected, it was unprecedented for an initial contact so long after the onset of the virus. For a moment they both stilled, thrown by the turn of events. Sulu was gaping, looking every which way with an expression akin to panic on his face. This was definitely not going to be a routine scouting mission. Already he was worrying about what kind of mess Chekov and Scotty were in, wherever they had ended up in the city.

“Lieutenant,” Spock ordered, willing control into the situation, “locate a strategic vantage point from which to fire on the target zombies. I will attempt to ascertain the source of this horde.”

“Aye, Commander.” Sulu wasted no time setting off to find an ideal location and Spock intended to do the same. They do not succeed before realizing that they are surrounded.

“What the fuck are they doing?!” Spock hears someone shout from somewhere above and to his left. This voice is unsurprisingly unfamiliar. It is the answering voice that he recognizes immediately, right as he is forced to draw his weapon.

“A whole fucking city and guess who?”

“What, you know these clowns?”

“Ezra shut up or I’ll make you shut up.” Spock hears no more after this apart from that of unloading ammunition. The fact remained that he and Sulu had not entered the city prepared for bather, and sooner than either man would have liked they ran out of ammo. The Lieutenant immediately drew his collapsable sword, but Spock was forced to make due with a standard knife and his Vulcan strength. Close combat with the undead was never ideal, and for him much worse as he wasn’t wearing his battle gear - most importantly the gloves that would protect his touch telepathy. This all was a passing thought, however, as Spock continued his brutal assault on Denver’s zombie population.

After what felt like an age but in reality Spock knew was merely 12 minutes, Jim and his companion, the young man presumably named Ezra, appeared near by in the mayhem. Spock unwillingly acknowledged to himself that Kirk’s performance at the Academy did not do justice to the skill he wielded on the battlefield. Even Sulu, whose swordsmanship could be described as both frightening and elegant, did not hold a candle to Jim’s ruthless efficiency and genius use of all available resources. With one last glance in the direction of poor, bumbling Ezra, Spock put all of his focus back into his own fight.

It wasn’t long before Spock’s knife became stuck in the jugular of one of the seemingly never ending horde. He knew before attacking that he would regret the action, but if he were to survive...the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one. Flesh touched rotting flesh as Spock grabbed his blade’s handle with one hand and the zombie itself with the other, using the creature as a bludgeon to hold the others at bay while he finally pulled his knife free. It was all too much.

Pain.

Darkness swirling at the edges.

It _burned_ and it would never stop _burning_.

There was no _memory_. No  _life_ , no _death_. Only the _pain_ and the _fire_.

Spock’s hand was ripped away from the zombie and disorientation followed. It was an effort to just remember to breath as the transferred horrors slowly, slowly began to fade. It took him a moment to notice the noise.

“-nonresponsive! Stay with Hikaru while I get him out of here, and try to get ahold of Ramona and Uhura as soon as there’s a break in the horde or once you reach higher ground! Tell Uhura to send Bones to the camp’s coordinates!” Spock recognized the voice, but couldn’t place it. Thinking at all through the roar of his headache was difficult.

 _Vulcans do not get headaches_ , his brain unhelpfully provided. That was the last coherent thought Spock had before blackness overtook him and he passed out. When he came to, he was lying on a mat in a tent, the familiar visage of Doctor McCoy greeting him with a scowl.

“Are you out of your mind?! I thought you were supposed to be some kinda genius! Or is the word ‘retreat’ just conveniently not a part of your extensive vocabulary?!”

Spock found he did not have the strength to respond to the well deserved reprimand. He had made a bad call, compromising himself as well as his team and their mission. The doctor was right - though he would not say it aloud - he should have ordered a retreat.

“Ensign Chekov and Mr. Scott-” Spock began to inquire only to be immediately interrupted by James Kirk marching purposefully into the tent.

“He’s awake?” Doctor McCoy nodded, strangely silent all of the sudden. Spock realized why when Jim turned to him, eyes ablaze. “What kind of recon was that supposed to be, Spock? Never assume that danger level is low, we can’t live with that kind of certainty. If you don’t assume you could die in your next mission, you will die and you’ll get everyone in your command killed. You almost ruined a carefully planned assault mission. If Ramona hadn’t been there to aid Scotty and Pavel they would be dead right now. If we hadn’t started comm-work, we would have never gotten Bones in time and _you_ would be dead. How are your regulations serving you now? Never go into the hazard zone immediately! Where’s your knowledge of the surrounding area? What’s your exit strategy?!”

Spock had never received such a dressing down in his entire life. Not even his father, with all of his Vulcan disapproval, had ever made him feel as ashamed as he did in that moment. Jim gave him no chance to reply, simply stormed right back out of the tent. Spock was left with his mouth open and his brows furrowed in unfortunately obvious confusion.

“He’s pissed,” the doctor unhelpfully stated.

“Indeed.”

“You’re lucky he’s busy helping relocate the camp, otherwise he’d probably grab Chekov and debrief you to the fullest extent of the little genius’ knowledge of GUARD’s rules and regulations. Viciously.”

“Relocate?” The Vulcan found himself stuck on that fact. Was it not too early to begin Sanctuary set up? After an initial battle, more similar to a massacre, the area was double checked to ensure that all undead had been properly eliminated. After clean-up, many smaller skirmishes would ensue as all buildings were thoroughly cleared. Then the most qualified individuals would commence with initial infrastructure set-up before survivors would begin the process of relocation.

“You were in a healing trance for nearly 12 days and that was _after_ I got you stable. And Jimbo doesn’t lollygag around with all that bureaucratic nonsense. His efficiency would probably decimate your ego,” Doctor McCoy replies as he took readings of Spock with a tricorder, “This is actually one of the last tents. Jim and I agreed that we shouldn’t go tryin’ to move ya to the new, better equipped med centre.”

“I see,” was all Spock could say, shocked at the time lapse. Obviously his officers were fine, as either Kirk or McCoy would have informed him if otherwise. The doctor made no more comments until he had finished his examination.

“Well that Vulcan voodoo seems to have worked it’s magic. You’re good to go, as long as you promise to be careful. Nothing that will overly strain you. If a human couldn’t do it, you’re not going to. Got it?”

Spock acquiesced and soon found himself standing outside the tent, looking around at the scattered remains of a once large mountainside campsite.

 

* * *

 

After his little temper tantrum, Jim didn’t see Spock for 2 days. If not for the obvious presence of the other guard officers, he would have thought the Commander had left town. Maybe gone back to San Francisco to metaphorically lick his wounds. As it was, they were now standing across from each other in the mess building. It had taken some work to get set up, but they now had sufficient food stores and cooking resources for the next 5-7 days.

“Commander,” Kirk muttered, trying not to let any bitterness seep into his voice.

“Mr. Kirk.”

At first Jim thought that that would be it. Their arguments were practically legendary among the GUARD team, after all. There was no reason to prolong contact that would almost inevitably lead to a fight. But Spock sat across from him, the grace of his movements at odds with his obvious discomfort with the situation. Jim decided to keep quiet and see what would unfold.

“I believe I owe you an apology.”

If not for Ramona’s silent presence at his side - and seriously, when did she even get there? - Jim would deny his reaction to Spock’s surprising statement. As it was, he let out a bewildered noise and spilled coffee down his front. This was the second time he had managed to drench himself with the beverage in front of Ramona and without the danger of falling off a shed, she started laughing.

“What?!” Jim asked, ignoring the cackling woman beside him and focusing on the Vulcan.

“Any mistreatment or antagonism that could be construed from my actions in the past were unintentional. I will admit to some negative reactions based off of erroneous impressions, and a great deal of animosity between the two of us. It is my hope that we could move past this, that you could return to GUARD.”

By the end of Spock’s so-called ‘apology’ Ramona had quieted. “Are you fucking kidding me?! No, Spock! Your attitude...your actions...they’re inexcusable and I can’t put up with it. You think you can just-”

“Your own attitudes and actions are not ideal. However I was under the impression that you did not believe in no-win scenarios? Is that not why you are here in Denver, and not back in Iowa?”

“Despite all your bullshit,” Jim replied, at a loss for what else to say. Why was he here really? He had left GUARD, why was he continuing their mission?

“I am to believe your motivations are so infantile?” Spock pressed. Jim could feel Ramona’s gaze piercing him. She was very different from Gwyneth. Silent, assessing, calculating as she watched the situation unravel before her. She was intense in a way that might even rival Commander Spock’s inherent intensity.

“Believe whatever you want. We’re done here.” Jim left the mess, food untouched. Ramona ended up catching up to him as he neared one of the numerous construction sites.

“He really gets under your skin.” It wasn’t a question.

“That’s an understatement.”

“Why do you let him?”

“It’s not really something I can help,” he admitted, kicking absently at a stray rock.

“Maybe you can use it. Already it motivated you here, correct?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Both of them knew when to let a subject drop.

 

* * *

 

Nyota could rain down on someone like a hurricane when the situation called for it. It was common knowledge that Jim Kirk didn’t pull punches so she wouldn’t either. She had cornered him at a tactical practice and was glad that he wasn’t letting up due to her supposed feminine fragility.

“You’re an idiot,” she spat, blocking what could have been a punch in the face. Though their sparring had started out professional, it hadn’t taken long for the two to start fighting dirty.

“Remind me again, why you’re still here?” Ducking underneath the high kick, Jim used her other leg as leverage to knock her onto the ground.

“I don’t run away with my tail between my legs if something doesn’t go my way.” In the fall she had grabbed hold of his arm and dragged her down with her only to push off of him and back onto her feet. Jim stayed down, looking ready to pounce.

“You don’t know shit.”

“I know that you want this. I know that you understand what GUARD is trying to accomplish. And I know that you’re afraid you won’t be good enough. You think there’s something unique in that feeling, but there’s not. Everyone’s afraid of failure, JIm. Everyone’s afraid to die.” He did pounce, and nothing in Uhura’s training was able to get her out of his hold.

“You’re wrong,” he said so softly that no one else could hear. He had released her, ending their match. “I’m not afraid to die.”

 

* * *

 

“But I am not understanding. You hawe zee sanctuary list, da?” Pavel had joined Kirk in helping to fix the wiring at a storage facility. Once he had stopped flirting with Kylie, the project lead who loved his accent, Chekov had pursued his inquiry of Jim with single minded fervor.

“Yeah...don’t know what I was thinking,” Kirk rolled his eyes, having given up on hiding his irritation long ago.

“You vere thinking of seeing us again,” came Chekov’s very certain reply.

“Now why would I want to do something like that?”

“Because vee are your friends.”

Jim sighed. The kid wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t enough, couldn’t be enough. It would only make things worse when it all inevitably went belly up.

 

* * *

 

Sulu walked beside him quietly. Jim made his rounds, trying not to think about what the silent companionship would turn into. No one was hiding the fact that they wanted him back in GUARD. Once they were done in Denver, the team wanted Jim in the van with them on their way to Aspen.

“You haven’t asked for a ride back to Des Moines,” Sulu said out of nowhere.

“Why would I do that? You guys are going to Aspen.”

“And you’re gonna stay in Denver?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know yet. I can always get back to Iowa on my own, anyway.”

There was silence again for awhile after that, though never uncomfortable. Sulu was again the one to break it.

“GUARD decided not to set up a sanctuary in Iowa. Because of you. That’s pretty impressive, man.” Both knew what he’d left unsaid, that _this_ was pretty impressive. Despite the team’s presence this was not a GUARD operation.

Not once had Hikaru asked him to come back, but he had made his argument anyway.

 

* * *

 

“Yir mad!” the Scotsman shouted, almost knocking Jim in the head with a wrench as he waved his arms about.

“We could do it! I know that Gwen has old schematics of Madeline’s somewhere. I could get us started easily.” They had had the same argument over and over since beginning their friendship. Could they or could they not build a starship and/or transporter.

“Aye, well, maybe if yeh were comin’ along for the ride, lad. This is nae the kind of thing yeh can organize long distance. A certain amount of discretion is required, fer one thing.”

When Kirk left the engineer he felt oddly hollow.

 

* * *

 

“I’m not gonna ask ya to stay. From what I’ve heard the others made a valiant effort and you’re standing your ground.”

“So you agree with me?” Jim asked in disbelief.

“No I don’t agree with you, you’re an idiot! Don’t put words in my mouth,” Bones replied, as surly as ever.

“You think I should go back to GUARD, then.”

“Let’s not pretend you care about my little ol’ opinion. You’ve made a damn good job of letting everyone know you do what you want.”

Jim gaped at his friend, exasperated. “Wait, wait...are you mad at me?”

“What was your first clue?”

“You think this is all easy for me? I wanna help people, you know that!”

“But you’d rather not deal with the annoying Vulcan.”

“We’re not good for each other, for the team! We don’t compromise, we both want to lead. Oklahoma City...I just...I can’t, Bones.”

The doctor sighed. It was hard to stay mad at Jim, especially when the man looked so damn miserable.

“We’ve all got our fair share of trauma, and from the looks of it you’ve had more than most. Don’t let it stop you from doing what you know is right. Hell Jim, I’m a doctor not a therapist. I do know that going back to GUARD is a decision you have to reach on your own. But if you do, ya gotta understand that we’re a _team_  and that means we’re here to help you.”

“I know.”

“And you’ve gotta trust us.”

“It’s hard,” Jim admitted, looking up at his friend.

“I know kid, believe me.”

“I think I wanna try, though,” he said, taking a deep breath. Things had never been easy for James T. Kirk. GUARD would be no different.

“That’s all any of us can do.”

 

* * *

 

The day Doctor McCoy reported to Spock that Jim would return to GUARD, he tracked the man down at a training session he was leading for the survivors. Jim Kirk was a knowledgeable and efficient instructor. He also demonstrated a patience that Spock had previously not thought him capable of.

During a break Kirk surprised Spock, walking right up to him. Obviously this signaled the end of what the Commander had assumed to be very specific and calculated avoidance on Mr. Kirk’s part.

“So I take it you’ve heard,” he started off the bat.

“Yes. You will accompany us on the remainder of our mission.”

“I’ll try. But we need to learn to work together, Spock. You know I won’t blindly follow orders. We have to figure out a way to make a compromise.”

“It would be illogical to proceed any differently. It is my hope that we will be able to reach some form of understanding.”

“I don’t expect it to be easy, but I’d like that Spock.”

“Would you accept my assistance in this training exercise? I am a very capable instructor. If necessary, I can provide character references.”

Jim burst into laughter. It was the first time Spock had witnessed this emotion from Kirk in relation to himself, and was momentarily taken aback by the way it transformed his face. It made Jim’s youth much more apparent.

“I’m sure you could, hah, you probably would too, wouldn’t you? Alright Spock. Break’s about over anyway, let’s see what you got.”

The remainder of the training session passed in a blur. Though Kirk questioned him incessantly, Spock could now see the benefits this gave the students. An advantage of multiple perspectives and an understanding of diverse scenarios. What worked and when. It was also obvious that Jim had not for a moment considered himself a student during the mandatory GUARD training.

At the end of the session Jim even agreed to accompany him to the abandoned house that the GUARD team had been calling home base for over a month now. They had both agreed that it would be prudent to call a team meeting to better organize the rest of their stay in Denver, Colorado.

“Finally!” Sulu had said in greeting, raising his arms in apparent triumph from his position on the couch.

“Don’t encourage him,” Leonard reprimanded from the kitchen where he had finished preparing yet another pot of coffee. Spock did not understand his teammates preoccupation with the beverage. Adequate rest and nutrition should provide them with enough energy to function throughout the day.

Jim helped himself to a cup and began whispering conspiratorially with Mr. Scott as the engineer ate a sandwich. It filled Spock with an unexplained sense of unease which he quickly pushed aside. He could not begin to understand Kirk’s relationship with the rest of their teammates.

“So I take it it went well?” Nyota asked, stopping by him on her way to the living room, a cup of coffee in one hand and an offered cup of tea in the other which Spock accepted gratefully.

“It was enlightening,” he admitted. Nyota smirked around her mug as she took a sip.  

“Kirk’s full of surprises,” she said in agreement. Indeed, he was.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god yay I finally got it done sofj;askjfa this chapter took forever because I lost half of it when my computer died in January and school and just alskdjf;al BUT IT IS HERE oh god please tell me what you think *breaks down into tears*


	6. Aspen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually pretty fluffy. You didn't think that could happen, did you? Me either, but here it is. Also KNOWLEDGE IS POWER. Sorry it always takes me forever to get these chapters out. Enjoy~! (I hope)

_"Growin' up in some strange storm, nobody's cold, nobody's warm," - Neighborhood #3 (Power Out), Arcade Fire_

Upon their arrival, almost a week ago now, Aspen hadn’t seemed too bad. A pretty small city, especially after Denver. Jim could understand the appeal of trying for higher elevation Sanctuary set ups, though, as zombies were not the most resilient when it came to any terrain that wasn’t a cleared flat surface.

Survivors had not been initially apparent, but they found them hidden in well-stocked cabins among the mountain wilderness that surrounded the city on three sides. It was a real pain, though - Aspen in December. Having grown up in Iowa, Jim knew how to handle a harsh winter. Pavel and Scotty also took it in stride. The rest of the team had a very different opinion and couldn’t seem to open their mouths without complaining about the cold.

Just because he was used to it didn’t mean it was ideal.

The battle raged on, any advantage afforded them by the cold’s effect on undead limbs swiftly negated by what it did to living bodies. At this point Kirk was seriously regretting picking up an axe after his gun jammed up. Looking around, there seemed to be an abundance of melee weapons. Hell, did Scotty have an ice pick? With a swoosh of his own blade and a strength coming from who knows where, Jim severed the head of the nearest ghoul before making a beeline towards the trees. Fighting was much more dangerous in the woods, but from the looks of it the storm would get worse before it got better.

Camp was different. Tents were out of the question in this kind of weather, so all of the survivors lived scattered around in sturdy wooden cabins. The most isolated of which, of course, was now home for him and his team. This was where he was heading now, cold air burning his lungs as he zig zagged through the trees. It wasn’t a retreat, not really. This battle had been strategically slow. No grand stand against the horde. Their environment wouldn’t allow for that. It was careful, sneaky, and deliberate. Fighting occurred in the city proper and only in daylight. Everyone feared meeting a zombie in the dark forests that sometimes seemed to trap them in.

Jim had to get back to the cabin before the storm hit. The way the wind whipped against him, picking up speed as the snow began to fall heavier - he had a feeling it would be bad, more than they’d prepared for. So he forced his protesting muscles to keep going, all the while keeping on constant alert for any creatures hiding in the dead foliage. It wouldn’t be the first time one had popped out at him.

Soon it was too much, though. His breathing was ragged and he had to stop, if only for a moment. Kneeling in a defensive position, Jim took several deep, calming breaths before jerking back up at the sound of someone - or some _thing_ \- approaching. Movement much faster than a zombie was capable of in peak conditions, he let out an almost inaudible sigh and shifted back into his crouch. The person closed in, slowing as they neared him.

“Mr. Kirk, your status?”

Ah, Spock. Of course. Who else would it be, really?

Yes, he was back in GUARD and yes, he and Spock were making an effort to get along now. But that didn’t mean it was easy now. In fact it was really, really hard. Nothing magical had happened overnight to make them into some dream team. The Vulcan still found a way to get on his nerves like no other. Sometimes, though, when they were both in pursuit of the same goal, it worked. They worked. With time, maybe, Jim could see the two of them accomplishing a lot together.

As it was, shit like this really pissed him right the fuck off.

“I’m fine. I need to get back to base before the storm hits. Someone needs to make sure we’ve got enough firewood to make it if this thing turns into a blizzard.”

Commander Spock was as bundles up as he could possible be without sacrificing too much movement and visibility. Vulcan was a desert planet and Jim knew that Spock must be freezing. Every bit of exposed skin was tinged green from the cold.

“You did not alert anyone of your intentions or of the possible environmental threats,” Spock replied, voice even but meant in obvious reprimand.

“Oh sorry if I thought everyone was a little occupied.” There was always something with Spock. Sometimes Jim wondered if the Vulcan regretted having him back on the team. He pushed himself up without another word and started running again toward the cabin. It was no surprise that Spock was now in tow. If Jim weren’t making an effort to get along better with him, he would have accused Spock of just following along for the chance to get himself warmed up in front of the fire. Hell, he would take that opportunity in a heartbeat and his body was built to withstand these temperatures.

It wasn’t long before they reached their destination, both noticeably exhausted. Spock would never do something so undignified as to pant for breath, Jim was sure, but it was still apparent in the way the Vulcan lost some of the tension in his shoulders as they stood together in the doorway. Jim didn’t bother removing his wet and dirty clothes, instead rushing to tend to the fire before grabbing his bloody axe to secure them with enough wood to fuel a weeks worth of constant heat. They would need it, he was almost certain. He could see the snowfall out the living room windows and it had only picked up.

“Where is Doctor McCoy?” Spock asked. Already he was out of his winter garments and presumably warming himself by the fire. During the first few days of their stay he had made constant offers to help with different outdoor tasks, but being told by Kirk, of all people, that he was being illogical...well, that just shut him right up.

Once they had to go to a desert Spock could have his time in the spotlight. Maybe. If Jim was feeling nice.

Bones was supposed to be here, in case of medical emergency. Of course, he was also on call for all survivors and for any of their so-called ‘troops’. Anything could explain the doctor’s absence, and Jim said as much.

“Why? Shit, Spock, are you hurt?”

“No. I am in optimal condition. However, the others will no doubt return soon and I would prefer if the doctor was present in the case that any member of the team has sustained injury,” came his ever-logical reply.

“Aww, you’re worried!” Jim broke into a grin as he walked back to the door. Spock had been right, with the worsening weather everyone would be back soon. He had to get a move on.

“Worry is an emotion. Vulcans do not worry. It is only logical to prepare for those scenarios which are statistically likely to occur.”

“Whatever, I’ll be back soon.” With that, Jim headed back into the cold.

It took him a lot longer to gather all of the wood than he had assumed. By the time he got it all stacked in what once may have been a sun-room, he had lost almost all feeling in his hands and feet. Bending his numb fingers was becoming a chore. The heat of the main cabin physically hurt after having been practically frozen.

“Jim?” Pavel walked out of the room he shared with Uhura and Hikaru to see the other man standing in the hall, practically convulsing. “Dr. McCoy there is emergency!” he shouted, grabbing onto one of Jim’s arms and slowly lowering him onto the floor to lean against a wall.

“D-d-d-dammit Ch-Chekov,” Jim managed, looking rather murderous for someone who could barely function.

“You need help. You are not Russian, cannot handle zee cold for such long periods of time. You should be hawing me take care of logs, it is like springtime for Russia,” the kid babbled until Bones arrived, looking furious with a medkit in hand.

“Dammit, Jim! Do you even think?!” Chekov quickly made himself scarce as the doctor dropped to his knees, hypo’d Kirk immediately, and then started removing Jim’s gloves and boots.

“G’geroff, ‘m f-f-fine,” he protested, but was unable to get his limbs to obey and shove Bones away.

“Yeah, you’re fine and I’m a whale riding a unicycle.”

“W-what?!” Bones used Jim’s surprise to inject him with another hypospray. “Oww! S-stop it!” Kirk’s complaints weren’t acknowledged and the doctor began working on getting Jim’s remaining winter gear off, along with his socks.

“You’re lucky you didn’t get frostbite,” Bones grouched, now scanning Jim’s extremities with his tricorder. Then he started to yank down Jim’s pants.

“H-hey! At least b-buy me din-dinner first.”

“Stop being such an infant. You need to get out of these wet clothes, you’re already walking a fine line towards hypothermia. Now you can take your shirts off yourself or I can do it for ya.”

“I’ll do it-t-t.” And he really did try, but after a minute or two of struggling, Bones swatted his hands away and did it himself. “Sh-shut up.”

“I apologize, I seem to be interrupting.”

Both men looked up to see they now had an audience. Spock stood at the entrance to the hallway, eyebrow raised, and Bones immediately launched into a rant about low temperatures and human bodies that somehow managed to turn Spock into the guilty party.

“H-how is this Sp-Spock’s fault?” Jim asked, managing to almost knee the doctor’s stomach when he tried to give him yet another hypo.

“He’s the only one who knew how long you were out there. Hell - did you even change when you got back from the battle?!”

Kirk refused to meet either pairs of eyes. Bones didn’t stop ranting until Jim was in flannel pajamas, wrapped in a blanket, sipping hot chocolate in front of the fire. One of the hypos must have been a sedative, because he was never able to fall asleep in open places like this yet now he was about to pass out.

“You gonna be okay?” Hikaru asked, taking Kirk’s mug when it started to look like he was gonna drop it.

“Mmm...yeah...jus’ wanna go to bed... _my_ bed,” Jim replied sleepily. He doesn’t remember what Sulu said next, _if_ he said anything. When he woke up though - 18 hours later, he was gonna kill Bones - he was in his own bunk.

* * *

“Three days?! What am I gonna do cooped up in this wooden monstrosity for three days?!” Scotty exclaimed, almost knocking over the table in his bid to stand and be heard.

“It’ll be fine,” Jim sighed. It couldn’t have been the first time the Scotsman had had to weather a storm like this. Though maybe he was complaining more about the lack of absolutely anything to do. That could get old. Still, even after the sedative induced sleep, Jim was too exhausted to care.

“It is like break, da? Vee vill play lots of vinter games. Is team building!” Chekov, at least, seemed pleased.

“I was under the impression that we were to stay indoors for the duration of the storm,” Spock chimed in. Jim could almost swear the Vulcan looked uncomfortable.

“Very short periods of time outdoors should be fine. Just not long enough to get anything done, right Bones?” Jim confirmed with a grin. The doctor looked like he was ready to take his half full mug of coffee and bludgeon everyone in the head with it. Starting with Jim, of course.

“Yeah, make jokes. I still need to get another look at ya after breakfast. Don’t even think about running around outside with those hooligans. Damn fools, the lot of ya.”

Jim grimaced and returned to his breakfast while Spock took that moment to begin yesterday’s debrief, now that everyone was present. That was a change they had agreed on; group debriefings. Less repetitive, and it kept everyone equally informed. It was speculated that most of the zombies in the area that were still active were now neutralized. Their main issue was something no one had ever thought to consider. Frozen zombies.

Were they a threat? Was the weather doing their job for them or was it preserving the undead until they had a chance to thaw? Should they be searched out? What implications did this have for further zombie research?

They sat at the table for hours, breaking for a few minutes to grab some lunch just to sit back down again. When there was a knock on the door, Jim almost ran out of the room. He wasn’t a fan of these long, drawn-out talks. They made him feel restless and twitchy. Phaser on stun - proper protocol - he opened the door to reveal Addison, wearing the most ridiculously fluffy winter coat Jim had ever seen.

It didn’t take long, after arriving in Aspen, to meet Addison. It hadn’t been like meeting Ramona - not at all. Addison couldn’t command a group of stuffed animals. He was, however, very helpful when it came to just _living_. His attitude was calm and easygoing. Smart about growing and finding food. Despite living in a post-apocalyptic world, Addison was really chill and took everything in stride.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Jim asked, noticing the box in his hands. The snow was still falling, visibility was horrible.

“Sabrina made you guys some donuts, dude. Can I come in for a sec?”

“Oh right yeah.” Damn, he was really off today.

Everyone must have decided to call it quits after Jim left, because Hikaru, Pavel, and Uhura were all lounging in the living room when Jim had finished helping Addison take care of all his winter stuff. Scotty was probably tinkering in their room, and Bones was likely stalking around, waiting for a chance to hypo Jim when he was least expecting it. He had no idea what Spock was doing. Maybe meditating?

“Hey Addison,” Sulu greeted. They shared a certain bond. Probably something to do with botany. Addison dropped the box of donuts onto the coffee table before sprawling on the couch in between Sulu and Chekov.

“How is everyone doing?” Uhura asked, turning away from the fire.

“Well we came up with logging shifts and Jefferson thought he was the best damn lumberjack in Colorado until a tree about fell on him. Bahaha, you guys should’ve seen the look on his face, it was great.”

“Is he needing medical attention?” Pavel asked, looking appropriately worried.

“Nah. It didn’t actually fall on him. He’s just spooked and embarrassed...heh. Hehe.”

Uhura rolled her eyes before getting up and heading into the kitchen. Jim quickly stole her seat as Sulu asked Addison what he had thought of the previous days battle.

“Zombies look weird as fuck when they’re almost popsicles. Don’t you almost wanna touch one? Just to see what it feels like?”

“...no,” Jim answered, after looking at his, frankly flabbergasted, teammates.

“Actually it would be a step in the right direction in our search for a cure to Virus #1724,” Spock said, appearing out of nowhere.

“We need to get a bell on you!” Kirk exclaimed. Spock always did that, sneaky bastard. One of these days he was actually going to give someone a heart attack. People didn’t like being snuck up on at the best of times, now it was just a downright terror.

“That would be illogical, as the noise a bell makes would surely broadcast-”

“It was a joke, Spock,” Jim interrupted, “just a joke.”

Addison was beside himself.

* * *

It was nearing the end of their second day confined in the cabin that Chekov announced, to every humans horror at having forgotten, that it was Christmas Eve. Jim’s chest grew tight, thinking about both his family - God, where were they right now? - and everyone back at the camp in Des Moines. They would probably be celebrating right now. Gwyneth without her family...and this time they wouldn’t even have each other.

The mood in the cabin was bleak. Everyone else’s thoughts had turned the same direction as Jim’s had. So many broken families, so many loved ones lost.

It was a relief to everyone, even Spock though he wouldn’t admit that the negative emotions pressing around his mental shields had in any way affected him, when Scotty announced that they would be able to see the aurora borealis tonight. McCoy even surprised them all by agreeing that they could go outside for a short period of time. Spock’s scientific curiosity outweighed his distaste for the cold and he joined his teammates in the snow.

Nyota and Mr. Scott soon separated from the group, which seemed to amuse Jim if the man’s smirk was anything to go off of. The phenomenon was as aesthetically pleasing as the holos he had previously viewed during his time at the Academy. Astronomical weather anomalies were just one of the many things he had studied in the science track.

“I’m surprised the sky’s cleared enough for us to see this,” Jim commented. He was currently standing next to Doctor McCoy, who was already shivering. Despite the low temperatures, as a Vulcan Spock was able to regulate his internal body heat in order to combat the cold. It wasn’t long before Sulue became too cold and Chekov lead him back inside with the promise to make him a drink containing vodka. This was a Terran alcohol that Spock confirmed was actually ‘inwented in Russia’ unlike many other such claims made by the young Russian.

“A drink by the fire? Best damn idea I’ve heard all night,” Leonard exclaimed, following the other two into the warm cabin. This left him alone with Jim, as Mr. Scott and Uhura had still not returned from wherever it was they had gone.

“What do you think?” Kirk asked, walking up to stand beside him.

“Though Earth is by far not the only planet to have an aurora, Vulcan does not possess one. This is the first that I have seen in person. It is...fascinating.” And indeed, it was. The light was dynamic, swirling and dancing in a random pattern through the night sky.

“Yeah, me too. Iowa isn’t quite north enough...it’s one thing learning about them, but seeing it for yourself…” Spock turned to Kirk when he trailed off and saw the look of pure awe on the other man’s face.

“Indeed,” was all he could reply with. There was silence for some time after that.

“Do you know about the colours?” Jim asked out of nowhere, seeming to snap out of the spell the lights held over him.

“Pardon?”

“The colours of the lights. You know how auroras happen, right?”

“Of course. Discharged solar particles are drawn to a planet’s magnetic polar regions, and in passing through the magnetic field they create light when mixed with other molecules,” Spock answered easily. His eidetic memory ensured that nothing he learned was ever forgotten.

“So you know that the particles the solar wind collides with determine the colour of the light, yeah? I think it’s really cool,” Jim said with a smile.

“As aurora phenomenon had little to do with my focus while at Starfleet Academy, I cannot claim to have more than a cursory knowledge of the subject,” Spock admitted, surprised at the facts he did not possess. He did not want to admit the further surprise that Kirk was the one informing him, as it would mean he had once again underestimated the young man. It was something he seemed to do with alarming frequency.

“Oh, well when the solar wind mixes with oxygen, that’s when you get the green and yellow light. Red, violet, and blue light happens when there’s nitrogen,” Jim explained easily, eyes fixed on the spectacle in the sky above them.

“Fascinating,” Spock replied, though he moved his gaze from the sky to James.

“We should probably head in,” Jim sighed, turning to face him. For a moment Spock felt an irrational worry about having been caught staring. It was easily dismissed as irrelevant.

“Yes. We should also locate Uhura and Mr. Scott.”

“Nah, they’ll probably be in soon. Let ‘em enjoy the night.” Jim waved off his concern and Spock was forced to follow him inside. Despite having a human mother, Spock did not know enough of their social customs to argue with Kirk’s assessment.

* * *

The next morning was bittersweet. They had no tree or decorations and no one had been able to prepare gifts. Addison did show up briefly with a mostly plucked turkey. Scotty and Jim took to preparing it with the enthusiasm of the truly bored.

“I have an idea,” Nyota announced as she walked into the kitchen.

“Aye?” Scotty was the only one to look up, as Jim was too busy stuffing the turkey.

“We don’t have any stuff to give each other for Christmas, so what if everyone got to ask each other a question and get an honest answer. Privately, of course.”

“I don’t see how that’s special,” Jim muttered.

“Well Pavel thought it was a nice idea.”

“Th’ only one here who er’yone has questions for would be Jimmy here, now would’n it? I’ve travelled all aroun’ this bloody nation with th’ rest o’ yeh.”

“Are you guys in or not?” Nyota asked, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms, “Or do either of you have a better idea?”

“I’m bringing you the gift of food, what more do you want from me?!” Jim complained. Uhura just leveled him with a glare.

“Aye, lass, we’re in,” Scotty agreed before a fight could start.

The “gift exchange” didn’t start until after dinner, which was the best meal they’d all (aside from Spock, who as a vegetarian didn’t eat any of the turkey) had in a long time. To make it more fun, Jim decided they would do it Spin the Bottle/7 Minutes in Heaven-style. Bones had groaned that he was surrounded by children, and Spock had needed a full explanation. Jim figured it must have confirmed to the Vulcan that humans were illogical as hell. After pouring everyone drinks, Jim sat an empty bottle of Romulan Ale in the middle of their loose circle.

Nyota went first and the bottle landed on Chekov. They agreed to do all the questioning in the upstairs loft where Kirk, Scotty, Bones, and sometimes Spock (who preferred meditating by the fire) slept. Nyota didn’t beat around the bush; Jim was actually timing them.

“Do you like Sulu?” she asked, “You know, as more than a friend?”

Chekov seemed frozen in place for a moment. “Uhm,” he finally answered, “da. But I am not ready to be telling him. I vill vait until I am 18 and legal adult.”

Nyota just smiled. “Good for you, Pasha.”

“I ask my question now, da? Vhat did you say to Jim in San Francisco vhen you called him avay that one day?”

The ruled followed standard Spin the Bottle format - since it landed on Chekov, he got to spin next. When it landed on Scotty, they didn’t even get up the stairs before they asked and answered their questions.

“Vill you teach me varp mechanics?”

“Of course, laddie! Will yeh be my official apprentice?”

“Da, da!” They both turned and practically ran back down the stairs to the amused looks of their friends. Scotty wasted no time spinning the bottle and everyone held their breath when it landed on Spock.

“Why do yeh never refer to me by rank, Commander? When we go into battle you start using the other’s ranks almost exclusively.”

Spock was silent for awhile, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “Mr. Scott, though you never received a dishonorable discharge, you position in Starfleet prior to the war was tenuous. It seemed illogical to refer to your rank when, in a sense, you have not been an active officer for many years. The rank of Lieutenant Commander would imply a higher level of competency, and while I find that you are a highly valued member of GUARD it had never seemed prudent to acknowledge your rank.”

“I...I see,” Scotty said, taking a deep breath. His eyes roamed everywhere but where Spock sat, posture as rigid as ever.

“Mr. Scott?”

“Yeah?” With his response their eyes locked.

“Would you like to be referred by rank?”

Spock’s spin landed on Doctor McCoy. If anything the atmosphere in the room tensed even more. When they returned, both me sported mildly confused frowns. Jim would pay good money to have heard their discussion. But after that Bones landed on Jim and he wouldn’t have wanted anyone to listen in on their questions.

Jim’s spin got Sulu, though, which was cool.

“Alright, my question is...do you want to train with me?”

“Dude, of course. Are you sure you wanna use your question on that?!” Hikaru laughed.

“No, dude, this is good. Heavy questions are just gonna bring down everyone. Gotta mix it up a bit.” Sulu nodded in understanding. He wasn’t surprised that Jim would think that.

“Alright. My question has to do with swordplay.”

“Hopefully Scotty’s taking his timer duties seriously,” Jim joked.

“Hey!”

Sulu got Nyota and she looked pleased as punch when they came downstairs. Chekov was eyeing her very suspiciously. Jim asked everyone really easygoing questions despite not knowing them as well as they knew each other. That was until he got his turn with Spock, at the very end of course.

Spock’s question was the definition of anticlimactic. Just about terran holidays, not even anything relating to Jim personally.

“Do you believe in miracles or in no-win scenarios?”

Spock steepled his fingers as he thought out his answer, obviously picking up on how serious Jim was taking the question. “It is illogical to deem anything a ‘miracle’. Whether or not one is able to find explanation for any phenomenon does not mean there is not a reason for it. As a scientist, I believe firmly in the law of cause and effect. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. As for the existence of a so-called ‘no-win scenario’, I believe that there exists an infinite amount of situations an individual can find themselves in and that it is statistically impossible for one to succeed through all of them.”

“Thanks for answering. I think you’re right about miracles...but I’ll prove you wrong about the last one,” Jim promised with a sad half-smile before he left the loft.

After that their last day confined in the cabin went by uneventfully. Jim found his mind constantly wandering back to Spock’s opinion on no-win scenarios. And his conversation with Bones. Catastrophic decisions.

* * *

Cypris and Addison were at each other’s throats when the team met them in the middle of the city to investigate the dozen or so frozen zombies that had been located near an abandoned supermarket. This wasn’t new and not even Hikaru new why the two guys seemed to hate each other so much. Once they noticed that they had an audience, Cypris stormed off. He gave everyone dirty looks as he left. Jim was pretty sure Cypris didn’t get along with anyone.

“What was that about?” Jim felt compelled to ask.

“He thinks you’re gonna fuck it up. Analyse these corpse-sicles and get everyone infected,” Addison shrugged, obviously trying to get back into his usual calm.

“I can assure you, all of our tests will be performed with the strictest adherence to protocol,” Spock said, seeming to straighten and become even more rigid at the accusation.

“Oh no, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Have fun.” With a small wave Addison left and Jim watched Bones and Spock immediately get to work. There wasn’t a lot he could do here; he wasn’t a scientist. There were other tasks, though, sanctuary related things that weren’t able to be tended to during the snowstorm.

Without a word Jim turned and began heading toward the storage block.

* * *

Before his brain could even properly register his own movements, Jim had the shovel in his hands and swung it at the ghoul as if it were a bat...or maybe an axe. Going off alone was always a risk, especially if you weren’t anticipating immediate danger. Jim was always wary, waiting for the other shoe drop. Going so long without fighting a zombie had been a disadvantage. Of all things it was the smell that got to him in the stale air of the storage building. Hell of a scent to get used to, but once he’d thoroughly gotten it out of his system it seemed to come back twice, even three times, as strong.

He wanted to puke.

Instead he slammed the zombie’s head and neck repeatedly with the shovel until it was eventually decapitated. He had to get to the survivors cabins, make sure they were safe if the weather was warmed-up (hah, no it was fucking freezing) enough for zombies to be moving about. Undead popsicles could be melting anywhere. Jim also needed a better weapon. Melee weapons were fine in a pinch, but if there were to be any real engagement, a shovel just wasn’t going to do. His options were limited this far from base.

In the end, he was trudging steadily onwards toward the cabins with a crowbar in one hand and a fire poker in the other. Hopefully the zombie he’d faced earlier had been a chance encounter. His luck had never quite been that good.

The fire poker was not bad, actually. In the woods he came upon four separate undead, and really kudos to fire pokers. Not as sturdy as a crowbar or as sharp as a sword, but if you shove it through the eye socket just right that brain is as good as screwed. It was no wonder that Jefferson looked at him as if he were some mad scientist sociopath when they met in the clearing outside the survivor’s cabins. He was covered in blood, smiling, and raving about fire pokers as if they were a gift from god.

“You are one crazy bastard,” the boy smirked before handing Jim a proper gun. Okay so yeah, the fire poker had proved itself but that still didn’t stop Jim from stabbing it into a tree (you know, in case someone needed it later) when something better came along.

“Where’s the rest of your team?” Jefferson asked, once the zombies seemed gone for the moment. They were both sweaty, tired, and cold, but neither would leave until they were sure the danger had passed...at least for now.

“Busy,” was all Jim said in response. It was weird, sometimes he felt useless outside of major battles. He didn’t have a specialization. All he did was supervise things, really. Everyone else had formal training in something useful. When it came down to it, Jim was a passable engineer but still their insistence that they needed him...it made no sense. In the end tactics were tactics, and Spock’s pissed him off, but...GUARD obviously had one of those ‘tried and true’ methods so what were they even doing with a guy like Jim?

Those thoughts were left to fester as Jim walked up to the camp with Jefferson. The sprawl of the cabins was more cozy in appearance than any ‘Sanctuary’ had ever thought to be. In this setting and in this weather, Spock’s by-the-book method for developing a settlement just didn’t apply. Hence the gigantic storage facilities in the city proper. Of course, once the weather lightens up another GUARD team will be sent out to improve upon things.

Jim was close with all of the survivors. He had an eidetic memory, so it had never been a burden for him to learn everyone’s name. He was about halfway through his ‘check up’ with everybody when he ran into Addison. Literally. Addison barreled right into him.

“Oof!” Jim barely got his balance caught in time to avoid falling backwards into the snow.

“Sorry, man,” Addison apologized while trying to catch his breath.

“Where’s the fire?” Jim joked, but then thought twice. “There isn’t actually a fire, is there? Please tell me there isn’t a fire.”

“No, no fire. I was looking for you, though. Thought you’d wanna know that your team was looking for you to share their findings or whatever, but Jefferson started telling tales again so...needless to say, Spock’s pretty much out for your blood because...I don’t remember. You’re illogical?”

Jim groaned into his hands. “It’s the solo thing, they think everyone needs a babysitter.”

Addison just shrugged. “It’s not the worst idea,” came his half-baked reply.

“I swear to god if he tries to debrief me again, I’m gonna shove a fire poker into his dainty fucking ears,” Jim mumbled, stomping off in the direction Addison had came.

His return is followed immediately by Bones descending upon him like a vulture. His only injuries were relatively minor bruises, but the doctor felt the need to inject him with this and that. Technically Spock didn’t debrief him, but it sure as hell felt like it. Either way, it was hard to take the Commander seriously while he was wrapped in three different blankets and sitting barely two feet away from the fire. Just when Jim’s considering ripping his own hair out, Scotty, Uhura, and Chekov walk up to them, asking for Jim’s advice on the job they’re about to head off to. Upwards of 15 undead in an evacuated office complex in a non-essential area near the outskirts of town-proper. His advice? Blow it up. Spock stayed silent for Jim’s entire explanation, his eyes never straying as he paid rapt attention to the proceedings.

“Did you know old Russian secret?” Jim listened to Chekov speaking to his teammates on their way out, “Molotov cocktails.”

Spock quickly reclaimed his focus. “They are impressed with your command abilities.”

If it weren’t _Spock_ talking, Jim would have thought that was an idle comment. As it was, he couldn’t stop his eyes from widening and his mouth gaping like a fish. “Yeah? What do you think?” And he wasn’t searching for approval, dammit, but shit just got interesting.

“I intend to gather more data before submitting my assessment.”

Well...huh.


End file.
